


Through The Looking Glass

by Hopeless--Geek (wuzzy90), L1av



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Actual Steve Rogers is, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe- Mirrorverse, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Asphyxiation, Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs With Teeth, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bottom Steve Rogers, Dark Steve Rogers, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrated by Hopeless--Geek, In the 5th chapter the character lives, M/M, Minor Character Death, Moral Ambiguity, Mutual Pining, Optional Major Character Death, Rimming, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Switch Bucky Barnes, The last two chapters are the same chapter but in the 6th chapter the character dies, Top Steve Rogers, good guy Rumlow, minor PTSD, unprotected sex, world building, you get to choose to read one or the other (or both!)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-05-28 21:10:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 107,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6345250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wuzzy90/pseuds/Hopeless--Geek, https://archiveofourown.org/users/L1av/pseuds/L1av
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Where the fuck am I?!"<br/>"Hate to say it, but you ain't in Kansas anymore." </p><p>Bucky was on a mission with the Avengers when he stumbled upon a machine that sent him...somewhere. There's this guy with Steve's face. He carries a sword and all his men tremble as he walks by. Something's wrong about him, but the way he looks at Bucky? It's like he's in love.</p><p>Is it wrong if Bucky wants to indulge in it? Just until he finds a way back to his world?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Зазеркалье](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12210765) by [Saysly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saysly/pseuds/Saysly)



> Note: This fic is entirely written by L1av. It is illustrated by Hopeless--Geek and based on her concept. She also has a lot of say in what happens. Just in case anyone was curious.
> 
>  **For additional clarification on the tags:** This fic has the option for you to decide whether you want to read Major Character Death or not. If you do not. Stop at chapter 5. If you wish to read MCD, skip chapter 5 and go to chapter 6. If you want to read both, well read both! They are not entirely the same, so if you're curious ;)
> 
>  **As another clarification:** This fic features an Alternate Universe Steve Rogers. He is NOT the Steve you know and he is very "dark." The Steve Rogers you know, is still hanging out in our reality (though he is a character later in the fic).
> 
> The actions, thoughts and ideologies of the characters do not necessarily reflect the viewpoint of the author. Please keep that in mind when reading this fic. 
> 
> HUGE shoutout to [nataliarushman](http://nataliarushman.tumblr.com/) for being our awesome beta! Kudos to [hopeless--geek](http://hopeless--geek.tumblr.com/) for the amazing story concept and her AMAZING art, based on each chapter, which will be posted at the bottom of each chapter :) 
> 
> If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask me over on my tumblr! [buckmebxrnes](http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/)

 

Bucky followed the HYDRA agents into the abandoned base. Clint was stationed back at the quinjet and Steve on the other side of the base to scope it out. Bucky was pretty sure he didn’t need to regroup with Steve to take these agents out, so he continued into the base, following as silently as a ghost. He crept behind a giant piece of machinery that whirred and buzzed rhythmically.

The agents didn’t seem alarmed. They walked into a small room on the other side of a glass wall and just started casually talking.

Bucky groaned. There was no way he could sneak up on them now. Giving up, he strode out into the middle of the room, pulling his guns and getting ready to fire.

One of the agents started shouting, holding up his hands and waving frantically. Bucky paused, his brow furrowing in confusion. The other agent threw himself onto something in the room and the large machines around the room started to buzz louder, crying out like a symphony of bees. It was so loud Bucky found himself dropping his guns and pressing his hands up to his ears.

The room was engulfed in white light, the buzzing and whirring like a shriek now– a woman screaming bloody murder as if she was brutally ripped open. Something tragic and morbidly sorrowful: that was the only thing Bucky could compare the deafening shrieking in his ears to now. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. The light was so bright, like staring at the sun. Tears flooded against his eyes and he felt like he was spinning. He stumbled, unable to find his balance and then–

The buzzing was gone, the light dimming until it was no more. The room was empty of HYDRA agents. The room was larger with no glass wall for any HYDRA agents to hide behind. Bucky grabbed his guns, running to press himself against the back of the wall. He looked at the exits, noticing there was a blinking green light above both of them. His mouth hung open as he peered around the room, his brow crinkled. It was cleaner. The machinery softly whirring with computer interfacing on a few of them. The tiles were polished and nothing was dusty.

“The fuck?” he whispered under his breath. He walked around the room, reaching out and touching. It felt real. He felt _alive_. He’d been too close to death before; he knew this wasn’t death. He was alive but somewhere else. Maybe the light acted as some kind of teleportation? Maybe he was in a functioning part of the base now.

“Clint, Steve– this is Bucky. Where the fuck are you two?” he spoke into his coms. All he got back was crackling fizz. Worry pressed into his heart, caressing it like a gentle feather. He wouldn’t panic. Not here, not now. They were in enemy territory and someone was seriously messing with his head.

“Steve!” he growled into the coms again. “I swear to God if you don’t come in soon I’m gonna snap your cap!” Still nothing but empty crackling.

Bucky took off, running from the large building to a higher vantage point. He climbed up a smaller outpost and turned around, looking at the base. It looked more like a hangar now. Bucky could’ve sworn it was just a large warehouse type place before. They were in Belarus but the forest wasn’t as thick as he remembered. The earth not as green.

“What. The. Fuck?”

“Hey!” someone shouted.

Bucky didn’t turn back. He started running with the full intent to jump from the building to put some distance between him and the shouter. He jumped, bracing himself for the roll as he landed and took off running.

Instead of more shouting, there was gunfire. Bucky started to run in a zigzag formation, moving a little close to one of the buildings. He yelped as someone grabbed him and forcefully slammed him up against the wall.

“St-Steve?!” he asked, his breath knocked out from him. Relief flooded into his features, melting away the worry at his brow at a familiar face. Though, the longer he looked at this man, the more he realized something wasn’t right.

Steve was staring at him like he hadn’t seen him in decades– like he did the first time they met again. But it wasn’t Steve, or at least not how Bucky remembered him as they got off the quinjet. Steve’s hair wasn’t so dark and he never wore a closely-trimmed beard like this guy.

“James?” Not-Steve gulped loudly, his hand trembling on Bucky’s leather jacket. “You’re–”

Bucky tensed, looking down at the hand on his jacket. He was about to put this guy into a headlock when someone came within an inch of shooting Not-Steve’s ear off. They broke off in a run together, Not-Steve holding onto Bucky’s hand as they ran. Bucky followed clumsily, momentarily surprised that this man was tugging him along.

Bucky yanked free, moving much faster than this guy. He looked him over. He was in mostly greens, wearing military issued camo and he had the weaponry to back the uniform up. Bucky’s face was hard as stone as he slowed to run alongside this guy. He looked just like Steve, almost identical except the color of his hair. It was sandier in color, Bucky would almost call it brown if it didn’t glint gold in the sunlight.

“Follow my lead,” Not-Steve commanded.

“Why?” Bucky spat back.

“Do you wanna die?”

Bucky huffed, crouching behind a few crates. He watched Not-Steve load up an AK-47. He’d been out of the US military for a long time now but he was pretty sure that wasn’t a standard issue gun.

Not-Steve stood up, aiming his gun and then ducking as someone shot at them.

Bucky winced, pulling his rifle off his back.

“No,” Not-Steve ordered. “That’s too big. You’ll be seen.”

“And an AK-47 isn’t?” Bucky retorted. “Who the fuck are you?”

Not-Steve smiled, poking his head up and taking a shot at where the fire came from. He ducked again as more rounds came at them.

“There’s three of ‘em. One sniper, two on the ground. One’s at our three and the others somewhere around our eight.”

Bucky peeked his head around the crate, yelping when a bullet came right at his face.

“Jesus!” he exclaimed, slinking back and grabbing a pistol. “Fuck this.”

“That’s better,” Not-Steve said. “So, you, you’re not James are you?”

“I don’t go by James,” Bucky said. “How do you know my name?”

Not-Steve took a few shots, smiling as they both heard the shout of a wounded man.

“Just a lucky guess,” Not-Steve offered, shrugging. His smile wasn’t anything like the real Steve. The real Steve struggled to smile. His eyes were always full of so much pain. He’d seen too many things, was haunted by too many ghosts. A smile that easy didn’t come to a man as tortured as Steve Rogers. But this Steve, this Not-Steve. He smiled as if he had the whole world to laugh with.

“Where are we?” Bucky asked. “I was with my team. The Avengers. We were tracking HYDRA agents when–” Bucky cursed when Not-Steve completely ignored him and slunk away to another crate. “Christ, you fuckin’ kidding me?” He crept along with Not-Steve. They were at least fighting the same enemy.

“I’ve got the sniper. Once I jump out, I need you to run for the trees,” Not-Steve said.

“What? Why?”

“Because I’ll act as your damn cover. I’ve gotta get you outta here,” Not-Steve growled.

“You don’t even know me!” Bucky wailed. He winced when he saw a bullet pierce into the crate behind them.

Not-Steve offered that carefree smile again. He licked his red lips before checking his ammo. Everything about him was so casual. They were in the middle of a gunfight and this guy was just smiling and shrugging like nothing mattered. Bucky knew for a fact his Steve would be taking this extremely seriously. There’d be no smiles. He’d see his Captain with his furrowed brow and tight lips. He’d see the gulps of worry when they got pinned down. He knew the look in Steve’s eyes when Bucky needed to talk him down from making stupid sacrificial plans that’d save them all but get him killed.

Somehow that’s what pulled on Bucky’s heartstrings the most. This Not-Steve was doing the same damn thing as Bucky’s Steve would do. Making dumb sacrificial plans and Bucky wouldn’t let his Steve and he certainly wouldn’t let this Steve either.

“Listen pal, I ain’t got time to watch you play hero. We both rush that sniper and we both get outta this,” Bucky countered, trying to sport the same face he always gave his Steve when there was no room for argument.

Not-Steve laughed. It was light, like birds in the spring. Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he heard such a carefree laugh out of his Steve. He heard them, sure. But this was different. This man was laughing with a sparkle in his eyes and his shoulders were light. It was like he floated on a cloud. Bucky’s Steve always looked like he was crumbling beneath the weight of the world. It was magical to hear that laugh, even if Bucky knew it wasn’t _his_ Steve’s laugh. Still brought the memories back.

“We move on three,” Not-Steve directed.

Bucky nodded, gripping his pistol a little tighter.

“One...two...three!”

Together they jumped out, Bucky aiming his gun in the direction Not-Steve was aiming. They rained fire up atop the hangar and when no returning fire came, Bucky took that as a good sign.

“Let’s go,” Not-Steve said, grabbing Bucky’s hand again.

Bucky didn’t shake him free this time.

They made it to the tree line together, Bucky deciding following this guy was better than staying back at the base. Besides, this man had Steve’s face. Bucky couldn’t help that he automatically trusted a face like that.

He fell behind Not-Steve, careful to avoid vines or roots that threatened to ensnare him. They came up on a small jet and Bucky almost sighed in relief when he thought it was the quinjet– but it wasn’t. It was bulkier, with a louder engine. It was green, like the forest they were in and the insignia on the side wasn’t the large A for the Avengers but BLADE. Bucky had never heard of BLADE before. He looked back at the direction of the base, his heart sinking in his chest.

His Steve, his Clint, his quinjet. It was all gone and it didn’t make sense. Everything didn’t make sense after that light and the sound. Bucky’s eyes widened. The light and the sound! It must’ve altered reality or done something!

“You comin’?” Not-Steve asked as he lingered out the back of the jet.

Bucky looked back at the HYDRA base, clenching his jaw. That was the last place he had seen _his_ Steve. But _his_ Steve wasn’t there anymore. He didn’t know what was still there anymore except for the goons who’d been shooting at them. This guy was offering him some kind of safety and right now, Bucky just needed some answers.

Bucky walked onto the jet, breathing heavily from the exertion and dodging bullets.

“Hate to say it, but you ain’t in Kansas anymore,” Not-Steve said. There was a hopeful smile on his lips, it was shy– like the smiles Steve used to give Bucky when he was just a tiny little thing. It made Bucky’s heart tingle happily. He missed that smile. Steve didn’t smile so much anymore, or at least _his_ Steve didn’t smile so much anymore. This one though, well he smiled the first second he really looked at Bucky.

* * *

 

They were up in the air before Bucky had a chance to talk to Not-Steve. He wasn’t really sure what to think of the guy, but he looked like Steve– except he wasn’t _Steve_ , but the way he bossed everyone around was oddly comforting. Steve could get bossy sometimes. Everyone called this guy Captain, so Bucky assumed that was his rank. Their spines snapped straight up when he walked by them and they balled their hands up into fists before making an X with their arms over their chests. Bucky wasn’t too sure what country saluted like that, but their accents were American, which made Bucky wonder if they weren’t just some splinter cell of the American military.

Not-Steve jerked his head in the direction of the hangar and together they moved up an extremely narrow, spiraling staircase. They were stuffed up into a cramped Officer’s Cabin. It had a bed with one standard-military issue pillow and a thick blanket. There was a desk and a chair and a single light. The window looked out to the clouds but Not-Steve hit a button and the window went black.

“You must have a lot of questions,” Not-Steve said. He sat at the desk, his legs spread lackadaisically, one wrist just dangling over a knee. Bucky’s Steve never sat like that. He was never that _free_ with himself.

Bucky looked around the small cabin. He wasn’t even able to stand to his full height but the other guy took the only chair which left– the bed. Bucky moved over to it, watching Not-Steve’s eyes get shinier. Bucky wasn’t sure if the guy was tearing up or he just had crystal bright eyes. It wasn’t until Not-Steve swallowed roughly, holding back a sob that Bucky knew he was trying to keep himself from losing it.

Bucky wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that. When they first met, this guy called him _James_ . Which was Bucky’s name, but he never went by it. The only people who called him James were Natasha and his ma, but she’d been dead for _years_ . But this guy seemed to know him. He seemed to know a _James_. And that was worth investigating.

“Where am I?” Bucky asked.

Not-Steve closed his eyes slowly, like he had his own question and it was brutally answered by Bucky’s confusion. He leaned forward, wiping at his eyes and Bucky knew for a _fact_ this guy was crying.

“We’re outside Mlyn–”

“I _know_ that,” Bucky cut in. His breathing sped up and his metal fingers were whirring with anxious signals from his brain. “Where am I? Where’s my team? Where’s our quinjet?”

“You’re from over there, ain’t ya?”

Bucky winced.

“Tell me what happened before I found you,” Not-Steve requested.

“I was tracking down HYDRA with– with someone who looks just like you. His name’s Steve and–”

“My name is also Steve. Steven Rogers.”

Bucky faltered, blinking a few times as if trying to wake up from whatever was happening.

“You came through one of the portals,” Not-Steve– no, Steve. Steven? This guy _was_ Steve. A different Steve but a Steve all the same. Bucky would respect that. “I’ve heard about it before. Never saw it myself but, we’re familiar with it.”

“Portal? _Christ_ , fuck no. Those HYDRA guys! They turned on those machines in that bunker and it got bright n’ loud n’ shit. I can’t– This isn’t–” Bucky felt light-headed. The room felt like it was getting smaller. He was aware of the hum of the engines and how high they were in the air. He was spinning, panting heavily as he tried to ground himself again. Portals? _Portals?!_

Steve just watched him, his eyes going misty again. “Your name’s James, right?”

“Bucky. I go by Bucky.”

“But it’s James Barnes?”

Bucky nodded.

Steve sniffed, looking away. He let out a shuddered sigh before leaning on his knees and staring down at the floor.

“Do you know how to get me back?”

“We can try,” Steve offered, looking back up. His cheeks were red, like the rims of his eyes.

Bucky didn’t want to call him out, but Steve was either suffering some kind of allergy attack or he was silently crying over something. Bucky shuffled his feet against the floor, licking at the back of his teeth. He shouldn’t pry. This wasn’t his Steve. This wasn’t his world. Similar, but not _his._

“Few years back we had a big problem with other-worlders coming through. They had all these ideas and visions of what our world _should_ be like. It led to a huge war and a lot of people died. Our society’s still not recovered.”

“Oh,” Bucky stated intelligently. He swallowed, unsure of how to proceed from there. “So I’m a threat?” Logical enough.

“What?” Steve looked up at him, his blue eyes round and wild. He was like a stallion out at the base of the Rocky Mountains, all powerful and fearless but also reverent. He looked at Bucky like he held the secrets of the universe. “God no!” He went to stand but immediately corrected himself.

Bucky just sat there, looking at anything but the man before him. Steve was trying so hard not to cry and Bucky felt entirely too invasive for this guy’s sake. They were too close in this fishbowl of a room. Every little sniffle or shift in Steve and Bucky’s gaze immediately drew back to him.

“So, is this Earth?”

“Yes.”

“But it’s not _my_ Earth?”

“No.”

“And my Steve?”

Steve winced, the muscle in his jaw going tight. “He’s in your dimension. Safe and sound, well, hopefully.”

Bucky refused to believe his Steve was anything but safe and sound. He had the Avengers to protect him. He had his shield and all the superhuman strength he needed. Of course he was safe and sound.

“Did I actually transport over or am I lying on a floor like I’m dead?”

“You’re entirely physically present here. He has no idea where you are.”

Bucky nodded chewing the inside of his cheek. The jet caught some turbulence and Bucky’s attention went from Steve’s face to the small necklace that dropped to the floor.

Steve moved like a tiger to grab it. He cradled it to his chest before slipping it into a pocket.

Bucky didn’t ask, and Steve clearly wouldn’t tell.

The jet leveled out again and they fell back into an awkward silence.

“But you’re Steve,” Bucky mused, licking his lips slowly. “You’re Steve Rogers.”

Steve nodded, his eyes hopeful but still full of tears he was trying so hard to hold back.

“I guess I can trust you then,” Bucky surmised, trying to smile but it didn’t go that far. Just like his Steve, he found it hard to smile these days.

Steve laughed. He sat back, relaxing into the chair. “You hungry or anything? We don’t got a big mess hall or anythin’ but we’ve got some grub.”

Bucky smirked, remembering the days when his Steve talked with such a thick Brooklyn accent. “You from Brooklyn?”

“Of course,” Steve replied. He was wearing that smile still, that smile that made Bucky feel a tingling warmth inside his chest. He wanted to get closer to Steve, to feel this tingling spread out further against his skin. He wondered if it would.

“Where’s your Bucky from?”

Steve’s eyes got wet again. Bucky’s mouth dropped open, a silent understanding on why this Steve was crying in front of him. It was like all the air got sucked out of the room. Every nerve in Bucky’s body froze, going into panic-mode. He sucked in a breath, trying to recalibrate his brain to say something– anything.

“Oh my God. I– I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He almost stood to touch this other man, except he realized he was wearing the face of this Steve’s most likely dead friend. He knew how torn _his_ Steve was when that happened. From the looks of it, it was almost the same. Was there any Steve in any universe that got to keep their James or Bucky or whatever? Was there any stupid punk that got to live out a good and happy life?

Steve just shrugged, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “I lost James two years ago. We’d been together for twelve years.” He looked down, twisting the gold band around his left finger.

Bucky nodded before snapping his gaze back up to Steve’s face. His metal arm whirred again, echoing the frantic rhythm of his heart. “Wait, _together_ ?” The wedding band, the tears, the way this Steve _looked_ at him. It just wasn’t the way Bucky’s Steve looked at him. There was pain there and a sense of loyalty and of course love, but it wasn’t the kind of love where they fell into each other’s arms at night. It’d never been that way no matter how many times Bucky had thought about it. But this Steve with his James. They’d been that.

Steve quirked a brow, eyeing Bucky quizzically for a moment.

 _“Captain,”_ Steve’s coms crackled into the air. _“We’ve got a situation down here.”_

Steve stood up, tucking a gun into the holster. He turned to Bucky, licking his lips. “I’ll be back. Stay here, okay?”

“Where else am I gonna go?” Bucky snapped back. He wasn’t unkind in his tone, more so just defeated. He felt so far away from home and yet this Steve was so familiar to him. He knew those eyes, the little freckles that speckled atop those cheeks. He knew the porcelain tone to his face and how he blushed so easily. He knew his Steve. But this wasn’t _his_ Steve. It was some other Bucky’s Steve. A Bucky that wasn’t around to appreciate him anymore. He couldn’t hold back the jealousy that burst through his heart, dumping enraged heat into his veins. This Steve and his _James_ got to be what Bucky never would be to his Steve. Saying it hurt just didn’t cut it. Bucky had loved Steve since they were children. He’d resigned himself to the simple fact it would never happen. But here, he saw a man who lost his lover– his _James._ Bucky couldn’t help but be jealous.

He waited patiently as Steve left to do whatever it was he had to. He wanted to poke around the small cabin but that wasn’t fair. This guy gave him no reason for concern. Besides, this was a _Steve Rogers_. If there was anyone to trust, it was a Steve– in any dimension.

Bucky scratched at his jawline, staring at his metal palm. “I hope you’re okay, big guy,” he whispered into the air. He lost track of time, dwelling on the information he’d received. This was Earth, but it wasn’t _his_ Earth. This wasn’t his Steve but it _was_ a Steve. The more Bucky accepted his fate, the more curious he got about this world.

What was BLADE? Did HYDRA exist here? Where were the Avengers? Did this Steve have his enhanced strength and endurance? As much as Bucky pretended he didn’t care, he was a little curious about where Tony Stark’s counterpart was in this world. Did he even have one? Was it a guarantee that everyone had one? Which world was the real one? Was there even such a concept as _real_?

Bucky jumped abruptly from his thoughts when he heard the echo of a gunshot. He stood, tense as a strung bow but relaxed slightly when he saw Steve climbing back into the cabin.

Steve closed the hatch door and turned to Bucky, a simple smile on his bearded face. Bucky liked the beard, honestly. It suited Steve. He’d have to tell his Steve that one day.

“Sorry,” Steve said, moving over to the bed to sit instead of the chair.

Bucky scooted away, watching skeptically. Steve had sat down so close. Almost like they were lovers.

_‘Oh. Oh!’_

Panic surged into Bucky’s heart. He felt like he’d just been electrocuted. He stood up, banging his head on the ceiling and yelping.

Of course the idea wasn’t met with disdain. The idea that Bucky could have a Steve was thrilling. It made his fingers and toes tingle and a flourish of butterflies entered his stomach. He wasn’t offput by the idea at all. It was the simple issue that he didn’t want to spit on James’ life with Steve. They’d spent twelve years together, and that wasn’t something anyone could just throw away. Bucky didn’t want to stomp all over that love. It wasn’t about loyalty of brothers; it was simple self-respect.

“Hey, hey!” Steve cooed, standing up and putting his big hands on Bucky’s shoulders. Hands that Bucky _knew,_ but didn’t. These were Steve’s hands but they weren’t on _his_ Steve! “It’s okay! It’s okay, Buck. It’s okay.”

Bucky melted at the name. Hearing Steve’s voice was enough to help him pretend. He closed his eyes, just listening to Steve’s voice. It was _his_ Steve’s voice. He could see him now, all blond and clean cut with that permanent scowl on his face. God, Bucky loved that scowl. He yearned to see his Steve, to tell him his feelings and face the consequences. How did this Steve, not Bucky’s Steve but still a Steve, how did he bring out such vivid emotions in Bucky?

“You were with him for twelve years?” Bucky finally asked, his voice scratchy and uneven. “With him? Like _with_ him?” He had to be sure. He saw the wedding band. He saw the tears but he _had_ to be sure.

Steve laughed, almost like what Bucky was asking was obscene. But it couldn’t be obscene. Inverts weren’t okay back when Steve and Bucky grew up and even now they weren’t commonplace. America _just_ legalized gay marriage but there were plenty of countries that still considered it a crime. The mere fact that this Steve seemed so open about it gave Bucky such surprise. He thought he’d misunderstood the entire situation if not for that wedding band.

“Yeah, we were married.” Steve’s voice was hoarse as he was unable to keep his emotions in check any longer. “Fuck me.” He let the tears fall now but he wiped at them before they reached his beard. “It’s like looking at a ghost.”

“Oh.” Bucky sucked in his cheeks. He didn’t know what to do or say. What could he? This man was suffering because his lover was dead and now Bucky had appeared quite literally out of nowhere and forced this Steve to look at him. Living, breathing and walking around as if this Steve’s lover hadn’t gone anywhere but he had.

I’m sorry.” It was empty. Sorry didn’t bring people back from the dead. Sorry didn’t hold back the tears that cascaded from Steve’s eyes.

“Can I…” Steve sucked in his lips, his eyes glossy with tears. “Can I hug you?”

The sentence punched him in the gut. He was so taken by surprise, that Steve must’ve taken his silence as consent. Steve threw his arms around Bucky, holding him so close that Bucky could feel the other man’s heart beating through his clothing. He cupped Bucky’s head, crying into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Steve sobbed. “I’m sorry.”

Bucky gingerly hugged this Steve back. This may not have been his Steve but he was a _Steve_. And Bucky couldn’t let any Steve in any universe suffer. So he squeezed him back, running his fingers through Steve’s short hairs. Why was the universe so cruel that every Steve Rogers had to suffer so deeply?

“Don’t be,” Bucky whispered. “You loved him.”

“God, I did. We were– It wasn’t supposed to end that way.” He dropped his face into Bucky’s neck, his beard tickling against Bucky’s exposed skin.

Bucky didn’t stop holding him. Over and over in his head he kept repeating, _‘This is Steve, this is Steve, this is Steve…’_ It didn’t matter which Steve. It was Steve. Bucky understood this man better than he understood himself. This was the guy that Bucky would follow to the end of the line. He’d follow this man into Hell and back. Fuck, he’d done it before. He’d almost died for it.

If his Steve wanted this kind of relationship, he’d have taken it. He’d have taken it in a second. He’d hold his Steve so close at night. He would’ve sang him stupid love songs and teased him about being so enthusiastic to get his face kicked in. If his Steve– that little guy from Brooklyn, if his Steve had wanted this… Maybe things would’ve been different after Bucky had come back from HYDRA.

His Steve blamed himself for Bucky’s misfortunes and Bucky blamed himself. They tiptoed around each other’s misery without ever dealing with it. They stewed in their pain, unable to really talk about it because the guilt was just too much. Any time they tried, their voices rose and they fought. Each one desperate to out-guilt the other, or take all the blame.

“I’m sorry you lost him,” Bucky offered, cupping Steve’s head. “I know for a fact you meant everything to him.”

Steve sobbed, clutching onto Bucky’s jacket. He stepped closer, pressing his thighs against Bucky’s.

Bucky tensed up, not used to being so close to another man. But this was Steve. It wasn’t _his_ Steve but it _was Steve_. It killed him to see this. It pierced into his heart to hear those wrecked sobs from a voice that sounded so familiar– like home.

He gripped Steve harder, feeling tears warm his eyes. If he was going to be here for now, he’d make the best of it. He’d take care of this Steve, just as he took care of his other one. He’d give this man everything he could if it’d help alleviate his pain– if only for now.

 

* * *

 

They arrived at an underwater base not far off from the Russian coast in the Barents Sea. Bucky was completely entranced by its size. There were elevators, escalators, those fancy magic carpet walking things that airports had (he forgot what they were called, he’s from a different century, fight him). There were even some submarine docks and the deckhands had to explain to him why the water wasn’t filling into the room from the openings at the bottom (“Oh like that show _Lost_!” “What show?”)

He’d forgotten that when he was a kid, he used to turn buckets upside down in the bath and shove air into them so the water wouldn’t rush in. He used to love wiggling his fingers where air met water. He was glad for the memory, but still angry that he probably would’ve never gotten it back had this not happened to him. What other memories did HYDRA take away that he still didn’t remember?

BLADE’s insignia was a sword with wings spread from its hilt. It was stamped all over the place, on the subs, on the walls, on the patches that the soldiers wore. Even Steve had the insignia on the shoulder of his shirt.

Steve was a lot more composed now than he was earlier. His eyes were dry and his face completely stoic. This face reminded Bucky of the Steve he left back home. That cute little crease was between his brows and his lips were pressed tightly together. Lips Bucky longed to kiss but he’d never thought he’d get the chance.

They walked in front of a group of soldiers. Bucky watched the men shift and avert their gazes from Steve. One clutched his gun a little tighter.

Bucky furrowed his brow, chewing lightly on his bottom lip.

“Private,” Steve growled. “Release your gun.”

The soldier let go, stepping back. His face went sheet white. Bucky tilted his head to the side, unsure of what was going on. The man looked like he was about to shit himself, or break down and cry. Bucky wouldn’t be surprised by either. How could Steve, a man so free with his emotions, who’d just cried into Bucky over a lost lover inspire such fear in his troops? How could _Steve_ ever command with fear? He was a walking poster for inspiration and camaraderie.

Then Bucky had to remember, this Steve wasn’t the exact Steve that he’d known back home. They were different– similar, but still different. Bucky wondered what kind of leader this Steve was. He was stoic around his underlings but that wasn’t unique. The Steve Bucky knew was pretty similar. He only flashed those beaten down smiles on rare occasions. There was a glint in the Steve here’s eye. Bucky couldn’t decide between amusement or an unspoken challenge. But what challenge could he bring to a simple private? Drop and give ‘im twenty? Bucky saw that kind of treatment back in the day and he was pretty sure no one had ever looked scared out of their damn minds at the sight of their drill sergeants.

“Captain,” a man’s authoritative voice echoed.

Bucky looked up to see Nick Fury– with _both_ eyes. He gasped a little. He’d never have recognized the man if he hadn’t looked over at Bucky with more disdain than a man who just stepped in dog shit.

“Fury,” Bucky stated.

“That’s General Fury. And how the–”

“General, if I may,” Steve cut in, stepping between Bucky and Fury. “We picked him up in Mlyn.”

“So they were still operational,” Fury concluded, nodding toward Bucky. “And because he looks like James, you’re letting him walk around without shackles?”

“Shackles?” Bucky exclaimed, crouching slightly into a defensive stance. He was prepared to bolt. He was pretty good at holding his breath. If push came to shove, he’d be diving out one of the sub docks and making his way up. He’d either die or make it. But he wasn’t going to be a prisoner of anyone’s war ever again.

“That’s not necessary, sir. Bucky has no idea about the other-worlders who came through.”

Bucky stepped forward saying, “I didn’t even know this shit could happen. I don’t even know who you really are or what the fuck BLADE is. I work for the Avengers. We’re– You’re part of us, Fury. Steve’s our leader. He’s Captain America and there’s Black Widow and–”

Fury started laughing. He tossed his head back, grabbing at his stomach.

Even Steve cocked a brow, a little smirk on his face.

“Captain America?” Fury barked out. “America doesn’t even exist anymore!”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

“Other-worlders, remember?” Steve offered. “America was th’war zone. It’s all gone now.”

“No,” Bucky whispered. He grabbed at his heart. The Empire State Building, street car hot dogs, baseball, the Rocky Mountains and the Grand Canyon. He’d never seen the Grand Canyon. He shook his head, stumbling back. He bumped into a soldier who violently pushed him to the floor.

“Hey!” Steve barked, moving into the soldier’s personal space. “What the _fuck_ did you just do?”

Bucky was too busy trying to keep his stomach on the inside to really know what was going on above him. He was panting heavily, his mind whirling. His world was _nothing_ like this. This world was barely standing and everything was just subtly _wrong_. Steve struck fear into these people’s hearts when Bucky’s Steve inspired bravery and courage– love. Fury was always distant but he wasn’t cruel. This man was malice incarnate and Bucky was beginning to understand why they were called BLADE and not SHIELD. They weren’t a protective force. They were aggressors.

Something wet splashed to the floor. Bucky looked over to see Steve with a bloody hand. Bucky was up and over to Steve in a second. He momentarily forgot this wasn’t the same Steve Rogers he knew from home. His devotion and over-protective nature kicked in and thoughts stilled in his head. He pulled open Steve’s hand, seeing the knife in his palm and no wound.

“W-what?”

“It’s okay,” Steve soothed, cupping Bucky’s face with his other hand. “I took care of ‘im for ya.”

Bucky whirled back around, watching the man who’d shoved him get carried off in a body bag. He stared, his eyes so round he was afraid they’d fall from his face. He tried to center himself. He tried to remember that this place was only temporary. He wouldn’t stay forever. This Steve would find a way to get him back home and he’d be reunited with America, hot dogs and Captain America. Bucky used to _hate_ that name, but now he’d give anything to hear someone call out a cheer for Captain America and Iron Man.

“W-what does BLADE stand for?” Bucky rasped, staring at the blood Steve wiped onto a white towel a younger girl brought over. She waited patiently for Steve to drop the soiled thing back into her hands before she ran off.

“Border Logistics and Arms Defense Enforcement.”

“Where I come from, we have SHIELD. They were supposed to protect the world.”

“We don’t have a world to protect anymore, Bucky,” Steve said softly. “Ours fractured after the war.”

“There’s more out there than just people. Didn’t the aliens attack your New York?”

Steve looked to Fury like Bucky was sprouting a second head.

“Bucky,” Fury began. His tone droning– like he’d rather be anywhere else but here. “We haven’t had a New York since before World War II.”

“Since before…” Bucky felt his feet stumble. He felt something warm against his back but the world smeared to splashes of watercolors. He saw a flash of blond hair and a smooth jaw. He reached up, but Steve wasn’t looking at him. Bucky was struggling to gasp for air, his throat burning. Steve was with the Avengers and he was _happy_ and smiling. He wasn’t looking at Bucky. He didn’t seem to care that every breath Bucky took felt like someone was pouring sand into his mouth.

“St-Steve. Steve!”

He didn’t look.

 

* * *

 

Bucky woke in a dark room with a light outside a large window. It was white and probably blinding but the ocean waters were so dark that it barely was able to light up the room with cool silvers and grays. Bucky felt the sheets pool around his waist, startling him as he noticed he was in a bed. He grabbed at his dog tags, using them to ground himself. He wasn’t home. He was somewhere else far, _far_ away. This wasn’t his world. Bucky wouldn’t deny that he wasn’t the person he used to be. He was mangled and parts of him were literally missing but he wasn’t like these people. There was something savage about them. Perhaps it was their desperation to survive in a world torn asunder by war.

“Hey,” a gentle voice permeated into the room.

Bucky looked over at Steve. He was leaning against the glass that separated them from the ocean.

“Hey,” Bucky echoed.

“You okay? You passed out there for a bit.”

“It’s just– a lot to take in.”

Steve laughed, nodding. “That’s understandable. I’d probably be losin’ my mind if I was in your situation. You’re handling it better than I could.”

Bucky just swallowed thickly.

“Thirsty? I brought water. I didn’t know if you were hungry so I brought up some food too.”

Bucky looked over at the tray. Fish, potatoes and shrimp. He reached for the water, gulping it down till it was empty.

“He used to do that too. Drank so much water once he actually got sick,” Steve mused, looking out into the blackness of the ocean. “Always did everything with unparalleled enthusiasm.” He sniffed, wiping his eyes.

Bucky felt his heart crack. He slipped from the bed, shocked to see his clothes were folded up on the desk chair and he was in cotton pants that hung low on his hips. He wanted to ask who’d changed him but he was absolutely sure he knew the answer. This Steve was just as protective of Bucky as Bucky was protective of _his_ Steve. Almost like the two were mirrored, but not the same.

Steve turned back around, nodding toward Bucky’s arm. His eyes were red-rimmed. Bucky felt ashamed for looking so much like James. His very presence brought back memories.

“Your arm. H-how?” Steve’s voice was hoarse.

“I fell from a train in 1944.”

“1944, huh?”

“Yeah. I’m technically around ninety something? I stopped counting. Steve likes to think we’re the same age as when we both died but– that’s not how it works.”

“You both died?” Steve asked, his brow pinched. He looked at Bucky with such strange devotion that it was almost unnerving. This Steve didn’t know his life and yet he was pouring love out of those eyes. Bucky couldn’t deny the small twinges of excitement pinching in his stomach but he couldn’t forget how different this Steve was. He needed to get a better feel on him. Besides, Bucky knew why Steve was looking at him that way. Steve loved James.

“So in _my_ world, we’ve got this organization called HYDRA. They’re pretty shady. Back during World War II, Steve came to rescue me. He mounted a one-man mission on the off chance I wasn’t actually dead. Well, I wasn’t. We started running around with some guys, blowin’ shit up and fighting the good fight. That’s when I fell from a train and Steve thought I died.

“I didn’t though. HYDRA experimented on me and I got some kind of supersoldier serum. Steve got it too. He fought HYDRA, killed the Red Skull and then the ass tried to kill himself by plummeting into a fucking iced up ocean.”

Steve laughed, but he didn’t say anything else.

“He gets defrosted decades later when Captain America is firmly embedded into history books and all the while, I’m a brainwashed assassin working for HYDRA and have no idea I’ve got a best friend who’d literally walk through hell for me.”

Steve’s face softened. He looked over to the food before back up at Bucky. His eyes were misty again. Bucky took the moment to wonder how a man so apparently ruthless with his subordinates could be so open with emotions like this.

“Were you ever small? Like, skinny?” Bucky blurted.

Steve looked down at himself. He bit his lip, tugging at it till Bucky could see it go almost white.

“Yeah,” Steve finally admitted. “After America was destroyed, there was a lot of fallout. It’s a radioactive wasteland now and people were developing a lot of…abilities. I wasn’t one of them but they offered me a chance to _get_ them. They wanted to channel what happened to America into a serum to create supersoldiers so if the other-worlders ever came back, we’d be ready for ‘em.”

“And that was you?”

“There’s a few of us,” Steve replied. “James was one of ‘em too. Same as you. And my James was 99 when he died.”

“Seriously?”

Steve chuckled, grabbing some shrimp and peeling the casings off. “World War II was important in your life and mine. I’m a little younger than James. We were kept in cryo a lot. Not everyone was able to handle the serum so for the sake of preservation, we became immortal– sort of.”

Bucky nodded.

“Fury abolished the cryo preservation though. Thought it was a little too stupid to keep his best weapons in a freezer, even if it did prolong our lives. I wasn’t anythin’ special before this. I was gonna get picked off sooner or later. That’s just the world we live in. Survival of the fittest. Weakness ain’t acceptable.”

Bucky winced, listening.

“So what happened? After you were a brainwashed assassin?” Steve asked. He leaned on the glass. Bucky could see the goosebumps appearing atop his skin from the ocean’s chill.

“Steve found me and saved me. It’s a reoccurring theme– him savin’ me.”

Steve smiled, looking down at his feet. “Yeah well, you’re worth savin’.”

“You don’t even know me,” Bucky countered gently. He reached for a piece of shrimp and dipped it into the cocktail sauce.

“Maybe.” Steve shrugged taking in a deep breath. “But you’re my late husband’s counterpart. I gotta know some part of you. Just like you know some part of me.”

“But _my_ Steve never wanted to be like that with me,” Bucky argued. He didn’t know why he was protesting so hard. Steve was exactly right. Bucky had even admitted this.

“Did you?”

The words punched him in the mouth, leaving him dizzy and reeling. His heart shuddered as the words rose to the back of his throat. He wanted to spew out everything. He wanted to admit to loving Steve since they were children. He wanted to admit that of _fucking_ course if Steve wanted that, he’d have been on board so fast.

“Maybe.” He sniffed, sitting back on the bed.

Steve moved over to the shrimp and peeled the shell of one of them before tossing it into his mouth. He chewed softly, letting the answer dangle in the air, like the tiny dust particles that caught the light from the sealight.

“I got picked up by BLADE– once the war was all over and done. Captain Schmidt was my superior after they stopped icing me and James. One day I just– took it,” explained Steve.

“Took what?” He was curious about this Steve’s history, just as he was sure this man was also curious about his. They knew each other, but they _didn’t_ . It was exciting getting to explore this all over again, even if it wasn’t the right Steve. He was still _a_ Steve, and Bucky had to just keep telling himself that.

“In order to rise through the ranks you have to show you’re better than those above you. Schmidt was idealistic. He had all these ideas about world peace and unification under one banner. We’re a fractured world and that ain’t happenin’. So I killed him.”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open. He leaned forward on the bed, unsure whether to gasp, shout or cry. Bucky remembered Schmidt from _his_ world. It’d been so long that Bucky wasn’t even sure he remembered anything other than that hideous red face, but he knew the man was evil. But what Steve spoke of now? Peace and unification? That didn’t sound bad and that’s when the warning bells started to ting in the back of Bucky’s head.

“You’re pretty open, ya know, considering we just met.” Bucky attempted to change the subject.

“We didn’t just meet, Bucky. We’ve known versions of each other all our lives. ‘Sides, there’s nothin’ like thinking you’d lost your chance to talk to someone ever again to help loosen the lips.”   

Bucky thought back on his Steve. They didn’t talk like this. They weren’t so open about their lives and their secrets. After Bucky got back, Steve never talked about how it felt to be in the ice. He never talked about what it felt like to lose Bucky. He didn’t ask Bucky about HYDRA and Bucky didn’t tell. It was like they were stuck in place, always running around each other but never _too_ each other.

“Fuck,” Steve breathed out.

Bucky just twitched his brow, waiting for Steve to talk.

“Your hairs longer– and you got that arm but… You’re just as pretty.”

Bucky was glad the room was dark. He felt heat rush into his cheeks and he moved to hide his face behind his hair. Warning bells or not, the compliment still knocked the breath out of him. It wasn’t that Steve was outright malicious, right? Aggressive maybe, but he wasn’t _evil_. In what world could a Steve Rogers be evil?

“M’sorry, that’s forward of me. It’s just, James was my everything. It’s hard to– let go.”

Bucky nodded again. This man wasn’t like his Steve. He wasn’t afraid to get his hands emotionally dirty. He smiled easily and the way he looked at Bucky…Christ, the emotion in those eyes tugged at Bucky’s soul. Steve looked at Bucky like it may be the last time, each time. And maybe to Steve, it could be. It was comforting to know that there was a Steve like this out there in the realm of existence. It was nice to know that Bucky’s place as HYDRA’s _asset_ wasn’t so dissimilar. He’d done cruel things. It didn’t matter if it was against his will or not, he still had the memories to carry the scars.

This Steve had scars too. Scars that Bucky understood and found comfort in. This Steve knew what it felt like to be in cryo. That in itself was so powerful to Bucky. Cryo was like thousands of rocks pushing up against his skin, forcing the air from his lungs and when the darkness finally took him? There are no dreams in cryo. Just utter silence and dark. It’s not something Bucky would wish upon anyone.

Bucky scooted over in the bed, pulling the blanket down for Steve. So this Steve had killed Schmidt for peace and unification. That could’ve been the HYDRA peace that Pierce wanted. There was no way a Steve Rogers could ever be the bad guy.

“You tired?” Bucky asked, scooting a little closer to the wall.

Steve smiled from ear to ear. He tugged off his pants and his shirt– muscles just like Bucky remembered on his own Steve. He padded over to Bucky, his dog tags clacking around his neck as he got into the bed. He wasted no time in pulling Bucky into him.

Bucky didn’t pull away. He wasn’t even startled by the closeness. It felt nice, lying so close to Steve like this, their heads touching and fingers softly wrapping into each other.

Steve nuzzled against Bucky’s face, a happy sigh from his lips. He tossed a foot between Bucky’s legs and then stilled.

“You don’t think I’m bein’ too forward, do ya?” Steve asked. He wore the most adorable smile that Bucky almost forgot to answer.

“Maybe, but as you said– we’ve known different versions of each other all our lives.”

“Told my James I’d be with him to the end of the line,” he mused, biting at those soft lips.

“Told my Steve the same thing,” Bucky offered. He felt a lump rising in his throat. The urge to cry wasn’t something he felt often. Now, it was as if all the tears he hadn’t spilled since reclaiming himself threatened to fall all at once. He felt split open and like someone was tugging at his heartstrings in a desperate attempt to grab his soul.

“Like a mirror,” Steve whispered, sleep starting to claim him. He kept his fingers curled around Bucky’s.

“Mirrorverses,” Bucky suggested. “Is that what we are?”

“Mmm,” Steve hummed. Bucky wanted to reach out and touch each little eyelash, but his hand was warm in Steve’s as they held hands between their chests.

“You’ll help me go home, right? To my Steve?” Bucky knew it was the last thing he should’ve asked, but being this close to another Steve only made him yearn for the idiot he left back at home. If he ever saw that jawline again and got to look into those eyes that were too sad for a man who looked so young, he’d tell him how much he loved him. Really loved him.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve answered dreamily. “Tired.” He scooted closer to Bucky, their foreheads pressed together. He adjusted his one arm under the pillow and then his breathing evened out against Bucky’s nose.

Bucky stared out at the ocean, listening to the base moan and creak under the weight of the water. This Steve wasn’t like _his_ Steve, but Bucky didn’t mind that. This Steve reminded him of himself. That had to count for something.

This Steve lived in a world torn apart by war. He’d been experimented on and turned into a weapon, just like Bucky. He had to do what he did to survive and Bucky appreciated that honesty. Back in his world, the Steve Rogers he knew always held people up to such high standards. He wasn’t afraid to tell people when he thought they were wrong. Bucky could recall a few back alley brawls over ideologies. That Steve inspired people to do the right thing and Bucky felt like he’d never be enough for his Steve because of all the shit he’d seen and done.

But the Steve here in his arms, the one sleeping so close to him, this Steve accepted the grays of morality and survival. Bucky was a survivor and so was this man.

He yearned to go home but he was here now. This Steve probably didn’t get to sleep so sound at night, and tonight, he got to fall asleep with his James again.

Bucky could live with that.

 

* * *

 

When Bucky woke, Steve was gone. The shrimp platter was replaced with a tray of fruit, a glass of milk and a bagel. Bucky smiled, reaching for the bagel and tearing into it. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten a bagel. It had to be before the war. He didn’t care that it didn’t have cream cheese, butter or jam. It was a bagel and he’d delight in the flavor. After he was finished, he gulped down the milk and started to pace the room.

Fury considered him a threat. He was an “other-worlder”. It didn’t matter that Steve didn't see him as a threat; he was one to the rest of them. That didn’t bode well for Bucky. Steve was his only ticket to survival here, in a world where he knew no one and he was helplessly cornered in an underwater base. He’d have more of a chance if he was alone on land. He’d been too disoriented and curious about Steve, and now he wasn’t sure if he hadn’t just walked willingly into a cage.

He was looking out at the ocean; it was a little brighter than it’d been the night before. He could faintly see a coral reef not too far from his room and a dark shadow of something big swimming out there.

“Mornin’,” Steve lilted as he walked into the room. He was chewing on a fruit, a mango or some kind of tropical fruit Bucky wasn’t too familiar with.

“Morning,” Bucky responded, a little more quietly than he’d wished. He didn’t want Steve worrying about him. He smiled to himself, rolling his eyes. Didn’t want Steve worrying about him…

“Sleep okay?” Steve asked, sitting on the bed. He chewed with his mouth open. It was loud and mildly obnoxious, but Bucky didn’t mind. He liked how animated it all was. Everything this Steve did was so full of life.

“Yeah, actually. It was nice.”

“Yeah, it was,” Steve said, a little more seriously. “You’d let me know if I got too forward with you, right?”

Bucky watched Steve for a moment, looking over that soft beard and the steady rise and fall of his chest. “Yeah.”

Steve nodded, a full smile stretching out on his face.

“I’m– I haven’t been with anyone since before the war. Never thought I’d be again.” He looked back out into the ocean, pressing his fingers to the cold glass of the window.

“Think because what you did that you don’t deserve it?” Steve asked.

Bucky’s breath hitched. He turned back around, watching Steve polish off the fruit and tossing the seed into the waste can. Steve continued to be relaxed, his shoulders even and that steady rise and fall of his chest. He’d been in cryo. He’d been experimented on. He’d seen desperation and ruin come to his world and yet he was still so free. It shredded Bucky’s heart that his Steve could never be so relaxed. He’d suffered before the war with his health and self-doubt and then after the war he was plagued with regret and guilt. A guilt Bucky’s very presence would remind him of each and every day. Steve blamed himself for Bucky’s death. It was a subject they never spoke of, but one Bucky understood too intimately.

“That’s–”

“I know. I thought it too. After what happened with James I just, I couldn’t bring myself to find someone else. I didn’t think I deserved it.”

“I’ve done terrible things,” Bucky whispered, watching Steve move to stand next to him.

“We’ve all done terrible things.” Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “That doesn’t mean we’ve gotta be alone.”

Bucky pulled away, feeling far too vulnerable. If Steve kept going, Bucky would find himself cracked open and spewing out every dark secret he ever kept. He had a laundry list of them now. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready to hear himself relay the memories to someone else. They’d be too real for Bucky to escape.

“You wanna see more of the base?” Steve asked. It was a surprise to Bucky, seeing how easy Steve read his discomfort.

“Sure,” Bucky said.

Steve motioned with his head toward the heavy door and together they left the safety of the room toward soldiers in formation and barking orders from commanding officers.

Steve showed Bucky the training rooms, the gym, the pool (Bucky found it funny there was a pool on an underwater base) and the submarine decks. Each person they passed looked at Bucky with alarmed eyes, all jittery and cautious.

Bucky found himself clinging to Steve, either by letting the man hold his hand or grabbing his arm when Steve started to get too far away from him. Bucky didn’t consider himself a clingy person. He didn’t consider himself someone who ever needed anyone else’s protection. He was a survivor. But the way Steve would always turn to him with that smile. It was enough to keep clinging.

“The subs are completely untraceable,” Steve explained as they walked along the line of submarines. “They’re built so a crew of twenty can man them. We like to keep ‘em a little smaller so they can go up rivers.”

Bucky touched one of the subs, feeling the gentle hum of its engines.

“We’re lettin’ this one out soon,” Steve explained. “She’s on a mission to the Greek Alliance, around what’s left of Germany soon.”

“What’s left of Germany?”

“Yeah,” Steve continued as he hopped over some large tubes that ran gasoline into the subs. “After the war, a few of the smaller countries banded together to make bigger ones. Germany was pretty much obliterated. Its borders were mostly enveloped by other countries but it’s still got a few German extremists hangin’ about. They’re nasty folk, if you ask me.”

Bucky’s face soured. He’d never heard his Steve outright badmouth anyone before. He’d heard his positions and disagreements, but never such an absolute opinion.

“We made sure Germany could never rise up and hurt anyone ever again,” Steve concluded, turning to Bucky as a puff of steam hissed from one of the pipes in the walls. “You wanna see the engine rooms? This place can launch off and travel if it needs to. It’s pretty swanky.”

“Swanky,” Bucky repeated for the sake of hearing that word again. It wasn’t a word he’d ever heard his Steve use, but its uniqueness still brought a tiny smile to his lips.

“Our engineer is pretty amazing. He built this whole place.” Together they continued walking away from the sub bay and into the tight halls of the bowels of the base. “We pay ‘im a _disgusting_ amount of money to keep him from selling his shit to the enemy but he’s more or less good people. Real top-dog kind. His dad’s a bit of a pansy though. Thought the world could exist without a war or skirmish. Real idealist, but he don’t do much so we’re not afraid of ‘im.”

“Who is he?” Bucky asked as they started to climb down a ladder. He listened to the base hiss and grind. It was louder down here as they got closer to the engines.

“His name’s Tony Stark. His dad’s Howard. I’ve no damn clue how that man isn’t dead yet. He’s almost as old as me and I’ve been in cryo a few times.”

Bucky nodded, dropping from the ladder and looking around the engine. It wasn’t what he’d pictured, all gears and steam. It was like Dr. Frankenstein expanded his lab with electricity contained in huge cylinders, all blue and purple as it danced inside. The wires hummed loudly like bees and it was freezing. Wires upon wires trailed the room, going up into the walls and ceilings. There was a large tank of water that swirled faster than a twister in the middle of the room with huge tubes attached to it. Bucky assumed the base was powered mostly by water energy.

“Oh uh, before we get up there,” Steve whispered, getting so close that his hips were bumping Bucky’s.

Bucky hissed, feeling heat swell in his loins. Touching Steve was like playing with fire, intentional or not.

“Don’t ask Tony about his scar.”

Bucky cocked a brow.

“Trust me. You’ll be dead in two seconds if you do.”

“Can I ask you? I’m curious now,” Bucky teased, biting his lip.

“Mmm,” Steve hummed, pressing his chest to Bucky’s. “James was a sassy little shit too.”

“I’m just curious!” Bucky didn’t pay a lick of attention to his arms coming up to wrap around the back of Steve’s neck.

They stood there, staring into each other’s eyes, bodies pressed up tight before Steve finally said, “James tried to kill ‘im.”

“What? Why?” He realized how close they were standing, as if standing out in the open like this was entirely okay. Bucky wasn’t dumb. He knew his world was slowly getting used to the idea of homosexuality, but this was too much too fast. He wasn’t even sure why he’d done it! It just felt– okay.

“Tony’s a weapons merchant. He sells his tech to the highest bidder. So far, we’ve been that bidder, but he makes no promises. He’s smart enough to kill those who oppose him and he’s rich enough that he can vanish if we upset him. James hated that about ‘im. So he tried to kill him before Tony started sellin’ to the Russian Powers.”

“He was tryin’ to protect you,” Bucky surmised.

“No,” Steve said, stepping back. “He was trying to protect himself. James was nothing if not selfish.”

“I’m not like that,” Bucky automatically defended.

“I know,” Steve said. “That’s what makes you two different. Aside from your hair and arm. You’re a lot bigger than my James too.”

“Hey!” Bucky laughed, poking Steve playfully. “They used to feed me through a tube!”

“Not fat! Just,” Steve stepped back, letting his gaze drink up Bucky in the most brazen way. “Built like a brick-shithouse.”

Bucky waggled his brows, feeling a warmth hum in his chest. “What can I say, I work out.”

“Mm,” Steve grunted before turning and going up another ladder. “C’mon.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky hardly saw the Tony Stark from his world. Truth be told, he didn’t really want to. As Steve carried guilt about Bucky, Bucky carried guilt about Tony’s parents. Looking at Tony reminded him of what he’d done and Tony didn’t take it in stride. He was angry and he wanted payback.

Howard Stark lay on a bed, hooked up to tubes and beeping machines. The Tony Stark of this world sat at a desk with several computers all hooked up together. He was typing away frantically before he turned around. He was shrouded in the shadows of the dark room. Bucky couldn’t make out his face.

“Rogers.”

“Stark.”

“I heard about your new toy,” Tony said. “He looks like him. That why you’re not throwing him into a holding cell?”

Bucky suppressed a snarl, but he did allow his fists to clench up.

“Just wanted to show ‘im around.”

“So he can steal our tech and bring his kind back to wipe us out?”

“He’s not like that,” Steve snapped.

Bucky swallowed, pressing himself to the door of the room. He looked out the window over the engine room. When he looked back, Tony was standing, his face in the light. Bucky gasped.

Most people had scars that were little lines trailing along the face, but not Tony. Half of Tony’s face was mangled like he’d been pushed into a boiling pot to melt. One side of his mouth had no lips and he barely could grow even eyebrows. He was hideous and nothing like the conceited Tony of Bucky’s world, all trimmed up with the best haircuts and goatees.

“He’s an other-worlder. He’s certainly _that_.”

“I didn’t know shit about this place!” Bucky cut in. “I’d be happy to get the fuck out but we’ve still gotta work on how to get me back. I don’t care about this world. Just care about gettin’ back to mine.”

Steve inhaled sharply. Bucky didn’t want to look over and see his face. He knew his words were rough, but Tony was riling him up with his unabashed hatred and Bucky wasn’t here to make enemies. He was here just to figure out a way to leave…

“You don’t know how to get back?” Tony asked, his tone gentler.

“Fuck no! Why else would I be here?”

Tony blinked, the good side of his face relaxing. “I thought–”

“Yeah well you thought wrong,” Steve growled. “He’s got a Steve at home.”

Bucky’s heart sunk against his chest. Steve’s words were true, but they held sadness and weighted defeat. His arms tingled, wanting to pull Steve into him. He hadn’t been here for a full twenty-four hours and he was already worrying about the Steve of this world. He wanted to comfort him, to remove that tone from his voice and see that smile light up that face like it usually did. He was almost terrified of the sullen way Steve looked right now, like the life was slowly being sucked from his soul.

“Well, this is engine control. That over there is my dying father. Ignore him. He shits himself a lot. Your name’s James?”

“Bucky,” Bucky corrected.

“I’m Tony.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky said. He looked around the room, licking his lips absentmindedly. “This base powered by water?”

“You bet,” Tony said, hopping from his chair. “We pull in ocean water, get it going like a whirlpool over there.” He pointed to the large apparatus in the middle of the room, spinning the water at breakneck speeds. “It creates an electric charge and outputs into the cylinders for harvest before distribution. We also have solar panels that we use on the surface of the water.”

“That’s amazing. So you don’t use arc technology?”

“Arc technology?” Tony asked, tilting his head.

“Oh, it’s– your other you swears by it. It’s a clean energy source.”

“I don’t care about clean energy. I care about powerful energy,” Tony responded, his eyes narrowing.

“Right,” Bucky backtracked. “Sorry.”

“Well, I just wanted to show ‘im ‘round,” Steve explained. “You need anything?”

“Nah, I’m meeting with Fury in a few hours to go over some new designs.”

“Take care,” Steve said, waving. He pulled Bucky by the fingers when they heard a clatter behind them.

Bucky whirled around to see Tony staring at Bucky’s arm, jaw-dropped and astonished.

“Your– I didn’t see before.”

Bucky looked to his arm before looking back at Tony. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

“Lemme see it,” Tony ordered, pulling Bucky by the collar down onto a stool. He manhandled Bucky’s arm, twisting it and asking him to open and close his fist.

Steve hovered like a fly, equally as curious as Tony. Bucky had to give him credit there. He’d been polite not to pry. That was a quality Bucky knew well. It brought a smile to his face.

Tony managed to open up the arm and look inside. He was taking notes and humming and aweing. Over and over he kept saying, “This is incredible.”

The ice in Tony’s persona melted away as he poked and prodded at Bucky’s arm. He was jittery, like a cat playing with a new toy.

“How long’ve you had this arm?”

“Long,” Bucky answered.

“Do all your amputees get ‘em?”

“No.”

“Why’d you?”

“I was an experiment.”

“Oh. Like Steve?”

Bucky blinked, looking up at Steve. It’d been voluntary, Bucky knew it’d been voluntary, but every time he was reminded Steve was an _experiment_ , it always brought out the most indescribable feeling of complacency in Bucky. It was soothing, like mint over a wound, all cool and refreshing.

“Not quite,” Steve laughed. “Bucky got the cooler arm.”

“I’ll trade for a real one,” Bucky said. “I can’t feel anything with this one. It’s just pressure sensors really.”

“Yeah, I see the network,” Tony said with his face not even an inch from Bucky’s arm. “This wiring is fascinating. It’s so… well it’s like you’ve had several different arms and they just kept building up around the old ones. There’s redundant wires and offline wires. You’ve got a few tracking devices too.”

“Yeah,” Bucky spat out. “I’m aware.”

Tony looked over to Steve, his good eye going stern. “You sure no other-worlders came looking for this guy?”

“He’s the only one,” Steve answered. “Absolutely positive.”

Tony went back to the arm, making Bucky involuntarily flex his fingers.

“Stop,” Bucky whispered, watching his hand move against his will.

“I’m just testing your reflexes.”

“S-stop,” Bucky whimpered, tears welling up in his eyes. He wasn’t here anymore. He was with HYDRA, strapped to a table and listening to the high squeals of the instrument his scientist of the day was working with. The man would force Bucky’s hand open and closed. He didn’t care if Bucky had to pee. He didn’t care if Bucky was tired or hungry. Bucky pissed himself in that chair. His arm was split open and that _scientist_ was making him form all kinds of hand positions and he _pissed_ himself because of it.

“Stop it! It’s hurting him! Stop it!” someone shouted.

There was a scuffle, followed by the shrieks of a man’s hoarse voice. Bucky was shivering, coiling in on himself and staring in horror at his opened metal arm. He started scratching up at the shoulder. He had to get it off himself. If he got it off, the scientist wouldn’t keep testing his hand. He wouldn’t have to lay on that table for hours without food or water. They’d probably even let him go to the bathroom! Or die. Dying wouldn’t be that bad, as long as he didn’t have to lie there for hours and hours just opening and closing.

Opening and closing.

Opening and closing.

“Bucky!”

Opening and closing.

“Bucky! Bucky look at me!”

He gasped, feeling someone touching his face, soft lips at his jaw and his name being repeated over and over.

“St-Steve?” Bucky gasped. “But we’re– you’re not–”

Steve pulled back. When did he get a beard? Who’d dyed his hair?

“You spaced out pretty hard,” Steve explained. “Are you okay? I didn’t know what to do. I just– I just started kissin’ you, cause it used to help me when I–” He cut himself off, his jaw clenching.

Bucky started to breathe slower, memories trickling back into his mind like tiny droplets of morning dew along a window. He wasn’t home. This wasn’t the Steve he knew. He was in that _mirrorverse_ and Tony had… Bucky’s eyes widened. “Tony!”

He looked around the room, seeing Tony by Howard’s bed as the man moaned and coughed. Tony was petting his father’s white hair, cooing softly into his ear. Howard’s eyes were wide as he stared up at the ceiling. He kept moaning, over and over and over.

Tony spoke in hushed tones, his lips pressed to his father’s ear. “Shh, it’s okay Dad. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Bucky swallowed thickly, looking back to Steve’s worried eyes. He let out a shaky breath, nodding jerkily.

“You okay?” Steve asked again.

“When you what?” Bucky asked. “Who kissed you and when you what?”

Steve sat back on his haunches, licking his lips. He breathed in heavily through his nose, as they both listened to Howard’s moans.

“When I used to slip. The experiments weren’t easy. The things they _did_ to me. To James.” He swallowed loudly, looking back at Bucky. “James would just kiss me. And it’d make it all go away.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered. “I’m sorry they hurt you.”

Steve smiled sadly, looking so much like the Steve Bucky left behind that it _hurt_.

“I’m sorry they hurt _you_.”

 

* * *

 

All the commotion set Howard off on a never-ending moaning fest. Tony tried his best to calm his father, shushing him softly and stroking his hair. Bucky watched, his gaze flicking back to his opened arm and then back to Tony. Steve was in the corner of the room, arms crossed and staring intently at Howard.

Howard was still moaning when Tony moved to finally close up Bucky’s arm. He was mumbling in a language Bucky couldn’t understand, grabbing at his IV tubes and trying to yank them out.

Steve moved forward saying, “You shouldn’t do that, Howard.”

Tony just kept closing up Bucky’s arm.

Bucky watched Tony with a heavy gaze. Howard was shrieking in protest at Steve but Tony didn’t bother to turn and offer any explanation. He just kept working on Bucky’s arm.

“Get away!” Howard snarled. “Get away, get away!”

“Okay,” Tony finally said turning around. “Steve, hold ‘im down. It’s medicine time.”

Steve did as requested, but the man started to violently convulse, doing his best to push Steve off of him.

“No! No you can’t do this! You can’t do this!”

“Bucky, right? Help us out. Don’t want dear ol’ dad throwing his back out.”

Bucky stood up, watching as Tony picked up a thick needle.

Howard moaned brokenly, his eyes wide and wild, staring right at that needle.

“It’s to help him sleep,” Tony said. “Now c’mon. It’s just to take the edge off. He’s in pain and has trouble sleeping.”

Bucky watched Howard, failing and groaning as Steve covered his mouth. Covering his mouth… Jesus. He looked back to Tony, staring at the constant sneer his face was in because of the scarring.

“It’s just to help him sleep, Bucky,” Tony said again.

Bucky moved forward, holding Howard by the shoulders as Steve kept his arms down. Tony pressed in the needle and Howard instantly began to nod off.

“You okay?” Steve asked, clapping Tony on the shoulder.

“I’ll be fine,” Tony replied, shrugging Steve’s hand away and turning toward his father. “Just gonna watch him for a bit.”

That was their cue to leave. Steve ushered Bucky toward the ladder, his eyes darker and resigned. It was like seeing the elderly spooked Steve out.

Bucky’s hearing was enhanced by the serum. He heard the flat line once they climbed down the ladder back to the engine room. He’d helped kill Howard Stark, just like he’d killed him once before. It made him so sick that he pulled over at the front of the engine room and just spewed his guts out. The taste of shrimp and milk filled his senses until he was gagging all over again, more bile splashing to the floor.

“Oh Bucky,” Steve said, rubbing at Bucky’s back. “Let it out. It’s okay. Let it all out.”

Bucky gagged again, coughing as his gut wrenched in his stomach. He sobbed, falling into Steve’s arms. He was shaking. Tears pushed out his eyes as he gasped for air. His breath smelled of rotten fish and sickly sweet vomit. He hated it.

He’d killed Howard Stark once. The only solace he had was that it wasn’t _technically_ his fault. He’d done it, but what choice did he have? He hadn’t known himself. He knew what HYDRA’d taught or forced into his mind. He wasn’t a monster. He was made a weapon. A gun didn’t choose to fire. A gun wasn’t inherently dangerous. The person who wielded it was. Bucky had been a gun.

But today. Today he’d held an already old and dying man down as he struggled. Howard had watched the needle go into his skin and he’d _protested_. He hadn’t wanted to die. Tony said it was for pain. He’d said it was just to help him sleep and take the pain away. It was to help him sleep.

It was to help him sleep.

Bucky had helped kill Howard Stark. Again.

“Fuck,” Bucky moaned, coughing up once more. His stomach had nothing left in it to spew, but it was still bunching up and churning violently. “I’m gonna die.”

Steve laughed, kissing the side of Bucky’s face. “You’ll pull through.”

“We just _killed_ someone!”

Steve just blinked.

Bucky grabbed Steve’s olive shirt, tugging at the collar. “We just killed someone and you don’t even care? Tony lied! He just killed his dad!”

“I know,” Steve responded. “I knew that already.”

“Then why didn’t you _tell_ me?!”

“Because this is how life is, Bucky! You’re too weak to go on, and you die. That’s how this world is!” His nostrils flared, color rushing into his cheeks. He was so beautiful and yet that image was poisoned. It was poisoned because this was _not Steve_.

The Steve Rogers Bucky knew was kind. He was selfless and noble. He didn’t waver in his convictions but he was still soft. He saved civilians. He loved children. He valued life. Bucky was a fool to think that any Steve Rogers out there would be just like that.

This Steve smiled, but that’s because he’d become so desensitized to the cruelty around him. Only the strong survived, and Steve was nearing 100. He was the strong one here. He’d survived by climbing atop the bones of his victims and he never once made an apology for it. It was a shame, really. That a Steve had to see so much violence that he’d become warped to it. Bucky pitied him. Bucky knew the value of life. It was robbed from him. He’d robbed it from others. He knew its value.

“And if I’m weak, you’ll kill me?” Bucky asked, his voice rough from spilling his guts to the floor.

Steve whined, stroking his warm hand against Bucky’s cheek. “Never.”

“But you just helped a man kill his father. What if I was in that bed?”

Steve’s eyes widened. His lips were twitching and his muscles tightened. “I–”

Bucky sucked his lips in, watching Steve fight with philosophy, morality and personal desire. It was cruel of Bucky, to corner Steve like this. But he needed to know the depths of how far Steve was warped. He’d never admit it aloud, but he was searching for one thing– was this man redeemable? If he was, maybe Bucky could allow himself the comfort his arms provided.

Maybe things could be…more…between them.

“Bucky, you’re not from here. I wouldn’t– I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“I understand that sometimes death is mercy. But what I don’t understand is why you _lied_ to me. You didn’t give me the choice. I got–” Bucky cut off, sobbing. He clutched his chest, heaving.

Steve just cradled him, stroking his sweaty face adoringly. The hall smelled of vomit and sweat. Bucky didn’t want to be doing this out here, but he didn’t know when he’d ever get another chance. When he’d ever feel brave enough to talk about this again…

“They took my choice from me. They took my memories, they took my body. I swore to never let that happen to me again. But you just did it. You _took that choice_ away from me.”

Steve’s eyes rounded. He looked down at Bucky’s lips and then back up to his eyes. “You’re right. I did. What can I do to make it up to you?”

Bucky swallowed, pulling back and standing up. He groaned, wiping at his face. “I need a shower and time alone. I’ve gotta think.”

“About what?”

“About this. About what happened.”

Steve nodded, and that was the end of their conversation.

Bucky wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. Steve knew he’d been brainwashed and Bucky hadn’t really gone into any detail about how or what happened. For all Steve knew, he could’ve been hypnotized by a swinging watch. Bucky wasn’t sure if Steve understood the severity of his actions. Bucky wasn’t even sure he wouldn’t have just gone along with it anyway. Howard had been dying and he’d been suffering. It’d been mercy. But it hadn’t been achieved the right way. It’d been a compromise, murky and vile in its execution.

Steve called down a service worker to clean up the vomit as they walked with his walkie-talkie. Bucky didn’t much listen to the conversation. He replayed Howard’s expression. How he had shaken and groaned and fought.

Would Bucky have shown him mercy? Or would he have backed away and let him die by Steve and Tony’s hands? Would that make him just as much a monster? He was a monster. He could dress up or dress down his time with HYDRA all he wanted. What he was now? It was a monster. It was cold, distant and refined. He had no control of himself back then, but he did now. And what did he do with that control?

Pine away for a man who was too pure to ever really love him the way he wanted to be loved. Steve was too good. He was too uncompromising. Bucky was a tattered old shadow following those broad shoulders, that shock of blond hair. He wasn’t worth Steve– no matter how hard he tried.

Bucky looked over at this world’s Steve again, watching him scratch at his beard as he talked over the comms. He laughed, that smile spreading, white and happy. He’d just killed a man, and yet he was smiling at whatever joke the person on the other side of the conversation had told.

This Steve wasn’t pure. He was battered and scarred by a war that destroyed his world. He did what he had to do and he made no apologies. He walked a fine line between good and evil and Bucky was drawn to that. Was it because didn’t Bucky do the same?

Bucky reached out, grabbing Steve’s hand as they made their way over to the room they’d slept in together.

Steve turned, his brow furrowing as he watched Bucky.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered.

Steve pulled him in, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and kissing his forehead. “Don’t be.” His lips still pressed to Bucky’s head. “Don’t ever be sorry for who you are.”

Bucky closed his eyes, staring at his combat boots. He grunted, still afraid to look back up. Don’t be sorry for who he is? How could he not? Guilt ravaged him like a pestilence. He had a lifetime of sins to atone for, but Steve was telling him something different. To move on? To embrace it?

Bucky wanted to. _God,_ he wanted to.

Steve opened the door, ushering Bucky inside.

Bucky looked out to the ocean once more. He dwelled on his thoughts, battling with acceptance and guilt. His eyes followed tiny bubbles that escaped from the base and trickled up the sides of the window. The large, blinding white light was in full force now. Bucky wondered how long they’d been traveling around the base for.

Someone knocked at the door and Steve answered. Bucky looked to see the boy, nondescript with a private’s bars on his sleeve. They didn’t wear collared shirts, just regular t-shirts, but their ranks were on the sleeves. Bucky thought it was probably more comfortable, but he liked the pride of wearing a uniform. Steve instilled that in him. Always said if they were going to fight a war, they had to wear a uniform.

Steve became agitated, huffing and clenching his fists. The private just grimaced and started to back away.

“M’sorry sir. We tried. We were outnumbered.”

“You failed,” Steve responded, pulling out a gun and shooting the boy right between the eyes.

Bucky yelped, slamming his back into the window to the ocean. It was cold and made him shiver but all he could focus on was the look in that boy’s eyes just a moment ago.

He’d known. He’d known what would happen, and he still came to Steve anyway.

“W-what the fuck?!” Bucky shrieked. “What the fuck? He was yours!”

“He failed.” Steve shrugged. “As I said Bucky, don’t ever be sorry for who you are.” He moved to put his gun on the desk before pointing to a door in the darkened corner. “Go wash up. We’ll eat dinner with everyone else tonight.”

Bucky peeled himself from the window, horrified that anyone wearing Steve Rogers’ face could be so cold. How could he smile so large and yet be so empty? Or was that it? He was void of emotion on the inside and that’s what made it so easy to smile? Bucky shook his head, feeling a wave of nausea hit him again. He moaned, stumbling over to the bed.

Steve followed, his eyes drowning in concern as he kneeled in front of Bucky.

Bucky swatted away Steve’s hand before it could reach him. “Don’t.”

Steve nodded, sitting back on his haunches.

“Failure’s weakness?”

“Absolutely.”

“But I failed.” Bucky looked up into Steve’s eyes, his mouth still tasting like stale vomit. He needed a shower. He needed to wash out his damn mouth. “I failed when I came here. I left my Steve behind.”

Steve winced.

“I left him behind.”

Steve reached up, grabbing Bucky’s hands. “Yeah but, didn’t he fail you too?”

“No,” Bucky said. “He did his duty. Served his country in a war that needed him.”

Steve laughed, but it wasn’t full of any form of happiness. It was bitter and resigned. He started tracing the lines in Bucky’s hands with his fingertips.

“I thought my James died once, during the war.” He looked up, his eyes searching for something in Bucky’s gaze. “You know what I did?”

Bucky shrugged, waiting.

“I went looking for him.”

Bucky hissed, remembering all the nights where Steve got _so close_ to finally admitting how guilty he felt for Bucky’s fall and that he’d never gone to find him. He’d watched Bucky fall from a train, of course he’d thought him dead. It wasn’t Steve’s fault. But they’d never talk about it. So Steve dwelled and Bucky remained silent, tormented by the walls Steve put up and the ones he’d built himself.

“Maybe he wasn’t meant for you,” Steve continued. He moved to sit beside Bucky on the bed. He leaned over, placing a soft, slow kiss to Bucky’s shoulder. “Maybe I was.”

Bucky felt tears sting in his eyes. It’d make sense. The Steve that Bucky knew was a legend, a hero and everything Bucky could never be. Bucky was just the horror story parents told their children about at night.

“You can stay here,” Steve pleaded, kissing Bucky’s shoulder again. “I promise to love you. I’ll treat you better than he ever did.”

Bucky closed his eyes, feeling the tears slip silently along his cheeks.

Steve leaned his forehead against Bucky’s shoulder. “You’ll never have to apologize for who you are.”

Bucky nodded, reaching up to stroke his fingers through Steve’s beard. It was as soft as unharvested grain. He leaned his head against Steve’s, still idly running his flesh fingers through that beard.

Steve had just murdered two people in less than an hour. He’d made no apologies, but it was a trait Bucky found admirable. He didn’t dress it up but he didn’t dress it down. He was who he was, and he’d forever be. There was an honesty there that the Steve back home didn’t get to have. He was brandished flawless and the epitome of power. He wasn’t allowed to show his weaknesses or that he suffered. And he did suffer. He was uncompromising in his loyalty to the world, to making it a better place but maybe to do that–

He had to get rid of Bucky Barnes. He had to get rid of the dark shadow that followed him everywhere.

Without Bucky, Steve wouldn’t have to worry anymore. He wouldn’t have to look into Bucky’s eyes and feel guilty about letting him fall. He wouldn’t have to tiptoe around delicate subjects like HYDRA or torture. He could just _be_.

“I’ll stay.” Bucky finally said, feeling his heart tear itself slowly in half. Part of it would forever remain with the little punk he grew up with. But maybe the other half could find a new life– a happiness in a world that accepted brutality and the grays of morality. A world that would accept _him_.

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky. The only sound he made was a stifled sob. He held Bucky so tightly that Bucky was shaking along with those silent sobs that wrecked Steve’s body.

Bucky leaned into Steve’s embrace, nuzzling against the other man. He inhaled deeply, memorizing the scent of this man’s skin.

Steve pulled back, cupping Bucky’s face. They looked at each other for a long moment, both looking at each other’s lips and then back to each other’s eyes. Steve moved in and Bucky was already closing his eyes, but the kiss never came.

Bucky opened his eyes again, watching Steve’s face.

“Go wash up,” Steve spoke. “I’ve gotta take care of that boy’s body.”

“What you gonna do with it?”

Steve moved to the door, pulling the large thing open. It whined loudly before clacking against the wall.

“Let the sharks have it.”

 

* * *

 


	2. Mad as a Hatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky meets a familiar face with a personality he'd never expect. And just when he thinks he's got Steve all figured out? This seemingly ruthless lion of a man proves to him he's not all that he seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE THANK YOU FOR EVERYONE'S SUPPORT OF THIS FIC!! We're thrilled that you're enjoying this idea and we cannot wait to continue delivering it to you!  
> As always: The actions, thoughts and ideologies of the characters do not necessarily reflect the viewpoint of the author. Please keep that in mind when reading this fic.  
> If you're on the second chapter, I assume you saw the warnings on the first chapter. However, this chapter features brief moments of violence (as always, right?).
> 
> I cannot say my thanks enough to [nataliarushman](http://nataliarushman.tumblr.com/), who at this point I don't even consider a "beta" but a straight up "I will own your ass grammatically" Alpha. So ya, huge shout out to her and all that she does for me and this fic. 
> 
> Artwork, as always, done by the lovely [hopeless--geek](http://hopeless--geek.tumblr.com/) at the end of the chapter! Can't thank her enough for giving me the opportunity to write this fic!
> 
> Add me on tumblr if you'd like! [buckmebxrnes](http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/)  
> 

A shower was exactly what Bucky needed to calm down. As the streams effortlessly cascaded down his body, he thought of Howard Stark– struggling on the last of his strength as Steve and Tony ended his life. Bucky refused to take credit for _this_ Howard’s death. He didn’t know. He thought they were comforting him; just helping him sleep. He refused to let that death be on his hands.

He thought of the Steve he left behind. Wondered if he was searching for Bucky. Was he scared? Upset? Guilt ebbed into Bucky’s heart, making him wince. Of course his Steve was upset. He’d tear the world upside down for him. They’d always been brothers. That bond wasn’t easily broken and Bucky knew Steve was out there looking for him. Bucky leaned against the shower stall, taking a deep breath. He was gone from his Steve now. He’d found– a new Steve– a different, powerful, ruthless Steve. But he was kind to Bucky. He was honest and open with his feelings and that had to count for something. Though he’d known they were killing Howard Stark and he didn’t do anything to let Bucky know.

But Bucky was selfish. He’d always been selfish. He’d kept little Steve all to himself when they were younger. He’d set him up on dates with broads he knew Steve didn’t have a chance with just so he could be the one to hold him in his arms after. He’d been jealous as all get out when Steve came to rescue him, all hulking muscle and magnificent power. He’d been jealous because he knew the world would look at Steve and finally see the man Bucky always saw. He’d never have his little Steve all to himself ever again.

And he never did.

There’d be no way to tell _his_ Steve goodbye. Bucky wanted to. He wanted to let Steve know that he was okay and alive. The thought of Steve searching for Bucky with no leads or a trace of him anywhere, it grinded at Bucky’s heart like shards of glass. Perhaps it was better this way. If Bucky went back, even for a second to tell Steve of his decision, he knew his resolve would crumble. That Steve, that guy he’d followed since they were kids, he’d always be the most important person in Bucky’s life. Bucky couldn’t go back. Not even for a second. If he did, he’d never leave his Steve again. It was better if Steve eventually gave up and thought Bucky dead.

“Jesus,” Bucky whimpered, his voice echoing off the shower stall. “You really do belong here, Barnes.”

Cold crept up Bucky’s legs, seizing his stomach and heart. A man like Bucky, willing to allow his best friend to think him dead didn’t deserve a good life. He was inflicting insurmountable pain on his Steve. His Steve, who’d die for him. Hell, he almost did and more than once. A cursed man like Bucky, wretched with the blood of many stained beneath his fingers, blackened by the thoughts of willingly letting his Steve suffer… A man like that didn’t deserve to go back to a world so good.

And he had a Steve here that was just as blackened and tormented.

The Steve of this world was willing to be something Bucky had never had. He offered love in the most intimate sense. He offered protection, a place to call home and a place where Bucky could _forgive_ himself. So Bucky took a deep breath, feeling his heart rate begin to slow down. He sighed, relinquishing his hold on the world he left behind. He’d always miss his Steve back home. He’d always call that reality his _home_. But he was here now. With a Steve that seemed to really want to love him. And Bucky was selfish. Besides, he wasn’t even sure if returning home was possible.

He stepped from the shower, wrapping one of the blue towels around himself and using the other one to wrap up his hair. He reached up for his dog tags, just tugging on them softly– a gentle reminder that they were there. That he’d been a person in another life once. They were reissued– replicas of the ones he’d lost in the war– but they were still the only thing he had left of the world he’d left behind.

Bucky walked out into the little bedroom, his gaze on Steve’s darkened form. He was bent over in the desk chair in the corner of the room. He had a whetstone and he was sharpening a sword.

Bucky tilted his head to the side, a single brow rising.

Steve looked up and smiled– full and bright– completely unabashed by the sword or what he was doing. There was that honesty again that Bucky was coming to really admire.

“She’s mine. Haven’t had much time to really get to be with her.”

“She?” Bucky asked, coming to sit on the bed. He let his legs hang open, the towel pinching up just a bit, but Steve didn’t even dip his eyes. It was the subtlest test Bucky had ever given and Steve passed with flying colors. He was respectful, or at least, that’s how Bucky took it. There was a little bit of the Steve Rogers Bucky knew from back home in this Steve as well. He’d treasure that.

“Yeah.” Steve picked up the sword, looking at its cool steel before his face. “Her name’s Mary.”

“Like the mother of Jesus?” Bucky couldn’t hold back the smile that shyly lit up his face.

“Like the mother of Jesus. My sword offers compassion and mercy– most of the time. But she brings down the hand of God when she needs to. So Mary.” Steve moved to put the sword back on its stand. Bucky hadn’t noticed it in the dark corner before, but now he couldn’t unsee it– its steel shimmering against the white light that lit up the ocean around them. It looked like a wolf stalking its prey more than it looked like a sword that offered _compassion_ . And Bucky knew exactly what _mercy_ meant.

“My Steve carries a shield,” Bucky explained, shifting on the bed as the cool water droplets tingled at his neck, spilling over his shoulders.

Steve’s face crumpled up and his shoulders tensed. He crossed his arms, staring at his boots.

“Your Steve, huh?” Steve grunted. He scratched his nose before running a hand over his beard. “You left that Steve behind, Bucky.”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open, his heart swelling as it sputtered in his chest. “I–”

“He ain’t your Steve. He never was.” Steve stood up, going over to the bed before getting on his knees and pulling out drawers Bucky didn’t even know where under there. “Clothes.”

Bucky took the olive pants and black t-shirt. It had the BLADE symbol in white on the sleeve.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Bucky whispered. “I meant, I just meant that he was my friend.”

Steve leaned back on his ankles, still on his knees. He nodded, but his gaze wouldn’t venture up to Bucky’s face.

Bucky felt cold without those expressive eyes looking at him. He whined in his throat, reaching down to cup Steve’s bearded face. He softly curled his fingers against the short strands on Steve’s face. They felt like velvet.

“This is all new to me, Steve,” Bucky whispered, gently coaxing Steve to look up at him. When Steve finally did, Bucky felt a warm shiver go down his spine. “I’m gonna fuck up sometimes.”

Steve reached up, cupping Bucky’s hand against his face. He turned into it, pressing a kiss to the meat of Bucky’s palm. Bucky gasped, noticing how long and dark Steve’s lashes were. They blanketed his face, bringing out the man’s cheekbones and giving him an almost ethereal, gentle composition.

“Just remember I’m your Steve now,” Steve ordered, his voice constricted. “You chose me over him.” He stood up, heading for the door. “I’ll send someone to get you. Get dressed.”

Bucky sat there, his tongue sliding from side to side along his teeth as words escaped him. He understood _why_ Steve acted so cold. Bucky had brought up _his_ Steve. And yes, _his_ Steve. He’d never make the mistake again, but in Bucky’s mind, he’d always call his Stevie _his_. Because he was. He’d been Bucky’s for so long. Did it really matter that much that they’d never kissed or whispered professions of love to each other? Bucky knew Steve loved him. They’d always loved each other. They’d said it in different ways.

_No, not without you._

_To the end of the line._

_I can get by on my own—But you don’t have to._

They’d never said the three little words that affirmed their feelings, but it was shown in other ways. And what did it matter that they’d never kissed? Bucky had wanted it. Of course he had. He’d been crazy about his Steve ever since he’d realized his cock wasn’t just for pissing. They had loved each other. They _still_ loved each other. Did it really matter how it was expressed?

The Steve in this world, he was wrong. Bucky _did_ have his Steve. It was just different. James and Steve had a different kind of love but Steve and Bucky had a love all their own.

Bucky felt his throat swell. He pressed his metal hand to it, trying to cool the heat that rushed up from his chest. Tears stung his eyes as he gasped for air.

“Fuck, I miss you, Stevie,” he cried silently into the air. “I miss you.”

A knock jarred him from his thoughts. He panted, his metal hand still around his own neck.

“Captain sent me to escort you to dinner,” the person called from the other side of the heavy door.

“Uh– J-just a minute!” Bucky scrambled off the bed, shoving his legs into the pants, wincing when he realized he’d forgotten to put on underwear. He tugged the black shirt over his torso, furrowing his brow when he discovered it was just a tad too tight. His biceps bulged from the sleeves and the fabric clung to his chest, exposing the curves of his pectorals. He rolled his eyes, using his metal hand to tug at the sleeves to stretch them out. He wondered if Steve did this on purpose. He wouldn’t put it past him honestly. Then again, this world wanted displays of power. Showing off Bucky’s body was a way of alerting everyone of how powerful he was. Maybe it was to protect Bucky from anyone who thought they could fight him.

He shoved his feet into socks and boots before opening the door. His eyes went wide as he yelped and shoved the door back closed again. His heart was up in his mouth as he choked on air.

“Sir, are you okay?” the man on the other side of the door asked.

Rumlow. It was Rumlow. Bucky started to shake, remembering his handler from the world he’d left behind. Pierce had been far worse, but Rumlow didn’t exactly stir up loving memories from Bucky. He followed orders to a disgusting degree and he’d always remained a little impassive with Bucky. He respected Bucky’s power, but that didn’t stop him from giving him a few pushes if Bucky wasn’t walking fast enough.

“S-should I tell the captain you’d rather eat alone?”

Bucky sucked in a breath, remembering this Rumlow _wasn’t_ the Rumlow of HYDRA. HYDRA didn’t even seem to exist here. He opened the door again, looking at the Rumlow of this world. He was the same size, all perfect muscle on a lean body with a chiseled and rugged jawline. His eyes were rounder, a little lighter and his cheeks… He was blushing? _Blushing?!_

“I’ll eat with ‘im,” Bucky grumbled, stepping out into the hall.

Rumlow sported a relieved smile. He offered out his hand. “Name’s Brock. I’m one of the captain’s subordinates.”

“Yeah,” Bucky answered. “Bucky.”

Brock shifted on his feet, bouncing on his heels like an excited kitten. Bucky had to remember this wasn’t the man that worked directly under Pierce. He swallowed roughly, watching.

“Uh, so how’re you likin’ it? I mean, so far? The base is pretty cool, huh? I was blown away when I first saw it.” He started to walk down the hall, stopping when he realized Bucky wasn’t walking with him. He scratched the back of his neck, grimacing. “Look man, please just come with me. I’m already on the cap’s shitlist. I don’t– Just please.”

Bucky cocked his head to the side. “Why?”

“Captain’s orders? He wants you at dinner.”

“No why’re you on his shitlist?”

Brock’s shoulders sagged. He licked his bottom lip.

“Because I questioned his orders. He wanted me to kill one of the privates for not running fast enough. Make an example of him, ya know? I thought– I said it was too much. Said we shouldn’t treat recruits like that.” Brock swallowed roughly, shifting his weight. He was a jittery kind of folk. “He almost killed me instead. Instead, he beat me bloody and told the recruits that’s what happens when you talk back to your captain. Now I’m his glorified errand boy.”

Bucky’s lips parted, sympathy lacing into his bones that he never thought he’d experience for Brock Rumlow. He showed a kindness where Steve showed none.

“So you’re a nice guy?” Bucky whispered, stepping forward.

Brock shrunk in on himself, crossing his arms. “Don’t say shit like that. Being nice’ll getcha killed. I’m just a guy who doesn’t think we should be killin’ off our own, ya know?”

Bucky nodded, smiling. “That’s admirable.”

Brock snorted. “No it ain’t. It’s stupid. Cull the weak and only promote the strong. That’s how it is.”

“You’re only as strong as your weakest,” Bucky added.

Brock looked up at him, his eyes round. Bucky could see fear in those brown orbs.

“And that’s the problem,” Brock softly spoke. “I’m weak for wanting to help people get strong.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“We should go. If I get you there late, the captain’s gonna be pissed.”

Bucky nodded, coming to stand by Brock. This Brock was _nothing_ like the one Bucky heard a building dropped on. There was a submissive quality to him, a gentleness and a heart too big. Bucky wouldn’t have ever thought he’d be a friend to Brock Rumlow, but he could see himself being friends with him now. At least, this version of him. Never the other one. He’d rather drop another building on that one.

They walked down the hall to the elevator in silence, where Brock mashed the button for it. His upper lip was sweating.

“Do you want me to talk to Steve? Make ‘im less on your ass?”

“No!” Brock exclaimed. He recoiled, crossing his arms over his chest in a protective stance. “I mean, it’ll make it worse. He’ll think I put you up to it.”

“It’s not fair to you though,” Bucky pressed.

“Please don’t. Just please. You’re a nice guy too. You don’t wanna overstep your boundaries with the captain.” Brock scratched at his ear before rubbing his hand back and forth atop his head.

Bucky watched the elevator open before he spoke again, saying, “You think he’d hurt me?”

Brock shrugged, punching the mess hall button.

“Seriously, Brock. Do you think he’d hurt me?”

“He loved James more than anything. That didn’t stop ‘im from killing ‘im.”

Bucky’s mouth fell open. “What?”

Brock recoiled, wrapping his hands around the back of his neck. He shook his head, biting his lip.

“Brock, what?” Bucky stepped forward, grabbing the man’s elbow.

“He’ll kill me,” Brock whispered. “Don’t make me tell you.”

Bucky stepped back, watching the light on the levels continue to descend until they were at the mess hall. He felt numb or like the earth’s axis shifted– or he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. Steve loved James, but he’d killed him? He’d killed the man he loved? Why?

_‘You’re nothing like my Steve.’_

Bucky walked through the mess hall, staring between Brock’s shoulder blades. He felt like he was with HYDRA again. He was given the illusion of freedom but it was all just that– an illusion. Bucky wasn’t free here. He was free with one man and one man only and that was _his_ Steve. This place was full of lies and omissions. But despite knowing that, the second he saw Steve look up at him and drop his fork to stand with that _bright_ smile, Bucky’s breath left him. He felt his muscles tingle and all he wanted to do was curl up into that man’s side and brush his nose against his neck.

“You look good,” Steve complimented, his gaze glued to Bucky. “Th’shirt looks nice on you.”

Bucky tugged at the hem. “Small.”

Steve laughed. He gestured to the seat next to him before turning to Brock, his face darkening.

“You’re late,” he stated.

“W-we got to talkin’,” Brock fumbled, shrinking in on himself.

“Steve,” Bucky cut in. “S’okay. I knew a Brock from the other world.” He made a point not to call it ‘back home.’ He was beginning to pick up what would upset Steve and what would placate him. Bucky would never have thought he’d actively go out of his way to protect Brock Rumlow, but here he was, reaching out to Steve, wrapping his arms around the man’s waist and nuzzling up against him. “Be nice.”

Brock took in a sharp breath.

Steve watched Bucky for a moment, his eyes guarded and shadowed by those long lashes. He looked up at Brock, glaring.

“Get out of my sight, Rumlow,” Steve snarled, clutching Bucky just a bit harder. “Before I change my mind.”

Brock scampered away, like a puppy who’d stumbled upon a group of bigger cats.

Bucky pulled away, biting his lip. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

Steve just furrowed his brow, ignoring Bucky’s words. He sat down, picking up his fork and knife before cutting into his steak and eating loudly.

Bucky watched, before looking up and gasping. The other people at the table were all staring up at him, some of them with guarded faces, and others with small smirks.

“H-hey,” Bucky said, sitting down.

“That’s First Lieutenant Maria Hill, Staff Sergeant Clint Barton, you remember General Fury.”

Bucky swallowed thickly, staring at the man who glared murderous intent at him.

“And Natasha Romanov,” Steve finished.

“No title?” Bucky asked, tilting his head to the side.

She smirked. “Don’t need one.”

They looked similar to their counterparts, but none of them held the warmth the Avengers held. Even the Natasha of Bucky’s world was more readable than this.

Bucky briefly wondered why a general would sit at a table of low-ranking officers but then he looked to Steve and that was all the answer he needed. Steve was a supersoldier and a ruthless one at that. And not only was he powerful, but he’d procured something that had Nick Fury worried– Bucky.

Bucky looked at the plate of food shoved in front of him. It was better than the rations served back in WWII, but that didn’t make it any more appetizing. Bucky’s head was swimming with questions. Why would Steve kill James? Wasn’t murder illegal or had that been tossed out the window along with the rest of morality? Homosexuality was obviously not a big deal here, as Steve’s fingers were laced with Bucky’s on the table (whether Bucky was comfortable with it or not) and no one paid a lick of attention to it. They were all eating quietly. None of them paying any mind to Bucky except Nick Fury.

Bucky couldn’t relax an inch to eat any of his food.

He looked around the large mess hall, trying to find other faces he recognized. He saw Rollins with Brock. They were whispering, their heads close and ducked; Rollins’ fingers laced with Brock’s. They were at a table all by themselves. Bucky wondered if Brock’s low ranking with Steve meant they were ostracized. Maybe Rollins was the only friend Brock had here. Then again, from the way they were sitting, and how Rollins continued to stroke his thumb back and forth on Brock’s hand, Bucky wondered if they were _more_ than friends. Bucky wasn’t expecting the thud of hopeful sadness that weighed against his heart. At least Brock had Rollins with him, even in this world. It didn’t matter that they were at a table all by themselves, on display for the world. No one took a second glance at their quiet display of affection. Bucky appreciated this world’s acceptance of same sex love. Bucky appreciated that Brock had someone.

“You enjoying yourself, Barnes?” Fury asked casually, but there was an edge of malice to his words.

Bucky looked to Steve, his brow pulling together. Steve gave a small nod, chewing his food.

“It’s an adjustment,” Bucky answered honestly. “I know all of you. So it’s strange not to just– pick up where we left off.”

“What’m I like there?” Barton asked. He had a red tiny scar along his cheekbone, like an arrow had grazed him. Bucky didn’t put it past him.

“Funny,” Bucky said.

Romanov snorted.

Barton furrowed his brow. “What a waste.”

Bucky opened his mouth to protest. He’d enjoyed Barton’s happy demeanor. He liked the snark and the teasing. But of course, this Barton wouldn’t find humor anything to be proud of. Everything was all flipped around and Bucky couldn’t understand how these people existed like this. He was so used to his reality that he wanted to call this one false. But it wasn’t. It was real and _his_ was the false reality to them.

“And me?” Hill asked.

Bucky looked at her for a moment, licking his lips. “I don’t– I don’t really know. You’re always so quiet.”

Hill shrugged. “Well, at least I’m not _funny_.” She tossed a piece of broccoli at Barton.

“Watch it, Hill!” Barton growled. “That’s hard to come by these days!”

“Broccoli?” Bucky asked.

“Food shortage,” Fury explained. “You’re also letting the last of the cows get cold on your plate.”

“Seriously?” Bucky breathed out, looking at Steve for affirmation, but his face was impassive.

“Seriously. Our scientists are working to clone them but it’ll take time,” Fury explained. “I gather you don’t have this problem back home?”

Bucky noticed the way Steve’s hand tensed around his fork.

“No,” Bucky answered. “Cows are farmed. Same with chicken, pigs, goats. Whatever.”

“Man, I miss bacon,” Barton lamented. “Haven’t had it since I was three.”

“Pigs went extinct before cloning technology was invented,” Romanov filled in.

Bucky nodded. “Couldn’t you just– go to our world? I’m sure they’d help out. You’d just need a few to get back on the ground and start a breeding program.”

“No,” Fury said, his voice absolute. “We don’t deal with other-worlders.”

Bucky looked to Steve again, but he was ignoring the conversation.

“What makes my people so bad?”

“They’re not your people,” Steve finally said. “You don’t belong there anymore.”

Bucky sat back, shoving his plate away. “But they could still help us! I know Steve–”

“You heard the general!” Steve snapped. “We don’t deal with other-worlders.”

“Then why’re you with me?” Bucky snarled, glaring at Steve with all the intensity he could muster.

Steve gritted his teeth, snatching Bucky’s plate and stealing the steak off it. “If you ain’t eatin’ it, then I ain’t lettin’ it go to waste.”

“Could I show Bucky the shark tank, Captain?” Natasha asked smoothly.

Steve looked up at her for a moment before looking at Bucky. “If he wants.”

Bucky had learned a long time ago to never say no to Natasha Romanov. He stood up, following Natasha out of the mess hall.

“Don’t let it get to you,” she said casually as they walked out of the mess hall and to another elevator. She hit the button and stepped back. “He has to maintain that demeanor in front of Fury. He’s not that unkind.”

“I know,” Bucky replied. He recalled the way emotion poured from Steve’s aura, like a blanket that Bucky just wanted to wrap himself in. But he’d killed James…

“Other-worlders tried to change us before,” Natasha explained. “They called us savage and warmongering. Guess your people aren’t into power as much as ours.”

“They are,” Bucky countered. “Just differently.”

Natasha smirked, stepping into the elevator.

“Fury fears other-worlders.” She leaned against the corner. “They nearly wiped our people out. Germany and a few other countries thought their way was better and we went to war over it. But it didn’t start out so bad. We were negotiating trade, to share medical advancements and technology. Then they started getting opinions. Afraid that sharing their knowledge could let us destroy ourselves. Of course, we didn’t respond too well to that. So a war broke out. People picked sides, just like politics back in the day. As a last ditch effort, they bombed the fuck outta the Americas. It’s all gone now. Canada, USA, Mexico. I think the southern parts of South America are okay, but we don’t usually think about them.”

The elevator dinged and Bucky followed Natasha onto the rafters, high above glowing blue tanks with shadowy creatures in them. Bucky assumed they were the sharks.

“I’m gonna be very upfront with you, Bucky.” Natasha turned to him, her brow creased. “You’re walking a thin line. Fury’s tolerating you only because of Steve. So don’t piss Steve off and make him regret you.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” She leaned against the railing, looking down at a circling shark. “But our world has a different way of life than yours, and you can’t try to throw your ways on ours. That’ll piss Steve off and make Fury worry about you. So I’m gonna explain the rules to you. Got it?”

Bucky nodded.

“The weak die. We clearly don’t have enough food for everyone. So they die. That’s how it is. Your affiliation with Steve will keep you safe, but you better start acting like a man and less like a pansy.”

Bucky growled. “I’m a fucking assassin, I’m not a pansy.”

She shrugged. “You stood up for Rumlow, and Steve saw it.”

Bucky leaned against the railing too, looking down at the swirling sharks.

“Don’t talk about children. They’re rare and honestly, they’re not a good thing. We don’t breed. If we need to replenish our ranks, we look for enlistees. There’s still plenty of places where women are poppin’ out babies. But BLADE doesn’t. So don’t ask.”

Bucky shrugged. “Never liked kids anyway.”

She smirked. He smirked back. It was interesting to Bucky that, out of anyone, Natasha was the one most similar to her counterpart. Bucky wondered if that was because she was always shrouded in mystery and he’d never seen a true personality out of her. Just who she needed to be at that time.

“Don’t talk back to Steve in front of anyone. Don’t question him. Don’t try to stop him from his actions. You’re his subordinate. He outranks you and if you question him, you’ll only be jeopardizing his safety. The weak get killed. If he’s perceived as weak, someone’s gonna try to kill him. Got it?”

Bucky sucked at the inside of his cheek, watching Natasha’s shoulders square up.

“So I’m the wife?”

Bucky wasn’t expecting the chokehold he was suddenly put in. She pushed him slightly over the railing and Bucky came face to face with a hungry shark, its black eyes watching him. She pulled at his hair, exposing his neck.

“Make no mistake, belittling a woman will _absolutely_ get you killed here. Women are just as deadly if not more than men and you insulting a wife, frankly, is idiotic. Our best operatives are female and don’t you _dare_ make that mistake again, or I’ll end you.” She squeezed her hand in his hair, tugging on the strands.

Bucky growled in annoyance as the pain seared into his scalp. She let go, standing back. Bucky took a few steps back from her, panting. He’d let his guard down and she’d seized the opportunity to prove her point. And that point was made clear as day.

“You’re his subordinate. He’s your superior. Gender is meaningless. Understood?”

Bucky nodded, gritting his teeth.

“There’s a lot about us that your people find barbaric, but there’s a lot about your kind that we find barbaric. If you have a question, you ask Steve in private.”

“You care about him, don’t you?”

Natasha’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, but it was all Bucky needed to press on.

“I’m glad he’s got you. The Steve I left behind, you were one of his best friends too.”

Natasha glared. “Oh Barnes. You mistake my protection for affection? I don’t want anyone but me killing that man, and he knows it.”

Bucky balked, fumbling back until he felt the railing at his lower back.

She smirked, positively pleased with herself. “It’s all a game, Barnes. All of us better at it than you.”

* * *

Bucky stared out at the blackening ocean, replying the events of the day. Howard, Natasha’s threats, the fear in Brock’s eyes. The only thing Bucky really liked about this place was the calmness of the ocean and the way Steve’s skin felt against his own. Even that was probably misguided, desperate affection for a man he couldn’t truly have. A Steve so far away that he had to settle for the one on offer.

Steve walked out of the shower. He was wearing dark green cargo pants, his belt tossed casually over his bare shoulder. Water droplets still trickled from the nape of his neck and his body was flushed from the heat of the shower. Bucky found himself looking over that body hungrily, feeling a need stirring in his loins that he hadn’t felt in decades.

“You didn’t eat,” Steve stated, going to sit on the bed. He opened one of the drawers under the bed and plopped his belt into it.

“Wasn’t hungry.” Bucky tried to avoid looking at Steve’s torso.

“You should eat something,” Steve pressed. “Hunger can kill a man.”

Bucky couldn’t do it anymore, he was only a man afterall. He turned around, looking over Steve’s form to see a tattoo under his right collarbone, words he couldn’t quite make out. And a _branding_ on his shoulder. Bucky gasped, staring at the raised skin. Steve was a supersoldier. Their bodies healed without scarring and it was impossibly hard to acquire a scar. Bucky’s own scarring was there only because of the amounts of time the skin had been ripped open, over and over again.

But there on Steve’s shoulder was the BLADE insignia with little numbers under it.

“Y-your shoulder,” Bucky whispered.

Steve looked to the branding, then back to Bucky. He shrugged before coming to stand by Bucky near the window. He looked out into the ocean, his blue eyes alit by the white-light that shot into the ocean from the base. It didn’t matter how bright that light was; the ocean was still dark around them, shadowing their room in deep hues of blacks and grays.

“We’re all branded. S’how we know– in case the face is unrecognizable.”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open. War was brutal. Faces were mutilated. Bodies were eviscerated. Bucky had seen his fair share of war, but to _brand_ someone… He grabbed his own dog tags, fingering the engraving. Replicas. World War II tags weren’t embossed like current tags. It’s how he’d known they were replicas when he’d received them– even before his Steve had told him.

“Were you branded before or after the serum?”

Steve smirked.

“After.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky whispered. “How?”

Steve looked to the brand, running his fingers along the raised red skin. “Took over 48 hours. They had to keep cutting open the wound and pressing the brand back in. God, I thought I’d never worry about pain after that. Like I’d get used to it or something? But– unfortunately the serum enhances everything. So even the tiniest little jab of pain feels like someone’s running glass up my skin.”

Bucky’s heart sank. He swallowed roughly, looking back into the ocean. He couldn’t look at Steve’s face. Bucky’s whole body was weighed down with remorse. This Steve was out there, fighting, punching, kicking and everything else a soldier did. But whenever he was doing that, it was all being dished right back to him. Bucky’s serum hadn’t enhanced his nerves, or if it had, HYDRA had reconditioned him. Pain hurt, but he didn’t exactly think it hurt worse than before HYDRA.

“And you willingly let yourself be branded like that? Knowing it would hurt?”

Steve shrugged, clicking his tongue. “S’not so simple. BLADE’s just one of the many privatized military groups out there. Having no brand is more dangerous. It’s just a small sacrifice.”

“But 48 hours?!” Bucky shot back. “Steve, that’s torture.”

“I consented,” Steve answered, his voice as cold as steel. “What else was I supposed to do? Everyone knows I exist. _Everyone_. Supersoldiers were being hunted down and killed. BLADE offered protection. Me n’ James– we couldn’t survive by ourselves. Our whole team back from the war was killed. It was just me n’ him left.”

“Fuck me,” Bucky whispered.

“We were _so tired_ of running, Bucky. After the war, the American military was extinguished. We had nowhere to go. No one to call a friend. The factions started sprouting up. The world got darker and everyone got more desperate. Supersoldiers were the biggest threat and then BLADE offered their way of life to us. It was a simple sacrifice to be able to hold my husband instead of watch over him every night. So yeah, I let them crack open my skin over and over. I let them hold a white-hot brand to my shoulder for _hours_. And I’d do it again if it meant–” His voice gave out. He clutched the brand again, pushing his fingers into his skin. He’d reached his breaking point and Bucky respected that.

Bucky wished he didn’t think this way, but it was refreshing to hear Steve explain why he’d joined BLADE. It wasn’t for power or the lust of killing. It wasn’t for conquest or world domination. It was for James. Everything this Steve did, he’d done for James. Warmth blossomed in Bucky’s heart, spreading down to his fingers and toes as he looked at Steve like he’d never seen him before.

Steve would do anything for James. Which meant, he would do anything for Bucky. There was an odd solace in that. One that Bucky would clutch to his heart and treasure forever. He could trust this man, just like he trusted _his_ Steve.

“Tell me about James?” Bucky blurted, turning to face Steve, leaning his metal shoulder against the window to the ocean.

Steve sat back on the bed, reaching his hands out behind him. “Whatdya wanna know?”

“Tell me good stories about him,” Bucky pleaded, feeling the tightness in his throat. “Something that made you realize how much you loved him.”

“Why?” Steve’s eyes were starting to shimmer with unshed tears.

“Because I need to hear it.”

Steve sighed, dropping his head back. His adam’s apple jutted from his throat, bobbing slightly as he breathed. Bucky watched it for lack of anything else to do until Steve sat up again. He leaned his elbows on his knees.

“James was a thinker. Smart kind. He’d sometimes need to spend time alone and just…stare. If I couldn’t find him, I always knew where he’d gone off to. He loved to go to the sub deck and stick his feet into the ocean and just look down and watch if any fish could come up to his legs.” Steve wiped at his eyes. “Sometimes he’d let me find him and I’d just quietly sit next to him as he thought. I’d just put my feet into the water next to him and he’d just take my hand and give me the softest little squeeze. We could sit there for hours.”

Bucky sucked in his lips, listening to the way Steve’s voice tightened as he fought off tears. This man _loved_ James. Bucky didn’t want to believe Brock. How could this man kill the love of his life? How could any Steve Rogers kill a Bucky Barnes? It just didn’t make sense to Bucky.

Steve shrugged, wiping his eye for a final time. He looked up at Bucky, running his tongue over his red lips slowly.

Bucky pulled himself away from the window. He stood before Steve, wrapping his arms around the back of the man’s neck.

Steve pulled him in, spreading his legs so Bucky could slip closer. He pressed his head to Bucky’s stomach, sighing. His fingers trembled at Bucky’s hips.

“I’m sorry, if you feel like a replacement. I guess– I can’t lie to you. You absolutely _are_ a replacement. I’ll always love James. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you too. I guess it means that I just, really do love you. Cause you _are_ James. If that makes any sense.”

Bucky ran his fingers through Steve’s hair, his metal fingers at the nape of the man’s neck.

“Yeah, it makes sense. S’why I feel so close to you. Cause of the Steve I– the one back where I came from.”

“You love him.” Steve’s tone was flat.

“Yes,” Bucky admitted. “Always will. Like you’ll always love James.”

Steve nodded into Bucky’s stomach, clutching him just a bit harder. “I guess I can accept that. S’not fair for me to talk about a dead man and expect you to not talk about one that’s actually alive.”

Bucky nodded, feeling a tiny weight lift off his shoulders, Natasha’s words echoing in his mind.

_He has to maintain that demeanor in front of Fury. He’s not that unkind._

Bucky moved to sit on Steve’s lap, straddling him. Steve sat back on the bed to get a better balance of them, his face surprised at Bucky’s brashness. Bucky smiled shyly, nodding.

“What?” Steve asked.

“You’re not unkind,” Bucky answered. “You’re just what this world made you to be.”

Steve’s brow twitched but he didn’t say anything.

Bucky dropped his head against Steve’s shoulder, clutching the man’s shoulder blades. “And you loved James.”

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky, his breath hot at Bucky’s ear. They didn’t move for a long while, Bucky lost in his mind. Thoughts of why this man would kill someone he so clearly loved. Thoughts of Natasha’s desire to _kill_ him. But Steve apparently knew? Otherwise, why would Natasha say it so boldly to Bucky? It was that upfront honesty again that Bucky came to appreciate in Steve. It was in everyone here. Brock’s honesty at how afraid he was, Steve’s love, Natasha’s ambitions, Fury’s apprehensiveness. They were all honest. A world without lies, even if the truth was cruel and cold. It was at least truth.

Bucky’s stomach growled, shattering the quiet they’d both come to embrace.

Steve laughed, slipping his hands back to Bucky’s hips again. “You shoulda ate.”

“Not the smartest bulb in the box,” Bucky said with a smile.

“No you ain’t,” Steve agreed, gently shucking Bucky off his lap. “I’ll get you somethin’.”

“I’m not a soldier here, right?” Bucky asked, his brows pulled together.

Steve shook his head.

“Good,” Bucky responded. “I don’t wanna do that anymore.”

“You don’t have to,” Steve affirmed. “You can start over here.”

Bucky allowed a strangled smile to grace his features. He fidgeted with his fingers, rubbing his hands over each other for lack of something else to do with them.

“HYDRA made me do things– things I’m not proud of. I know it wasn’t my fault but.” He gulped, feeling the weight in his stomach, remorse building. “Still my hands.”

Steve pulled Bucky into him, their foreheads pressing together. Bucky hated the feeling of instant relief he felt when they were so close. There was so much wrong with this Steve and yet Bucky craved his affection like nicotine.

“You didn’t do _any_ of that here,” Steve spoke firmly. “HYDRA doesn’t exist. All the bad you did? It’s all gone here. You’re not that person here.”

Bucky wanted to swallow that pill and let it take effect. To be free from his sins? It was like a dream. He could chase it for eternity but when he woke, all the memories would rush back at him. But this place was real. The reality around him wasn’t a dream. Steve was flesh, living and breathing. This world was real, and Bucky couldn’t deny the appeal of it. A free pass to just start over. A new life. Bucky wanted it so badly it _hurt_.

He whimpered, dropping his face to Steve’s shoulder, pressing his hands to the man’s chest.

Steve just held him, swaying their hips slowly to music that didn’t exist.

“I swear you’ll be happy here, Bucky,” Steve promised into Bucky’s hair. “All the bad you did, it’s all wiped clean.”

_Wipe him, and start over._

Bucky jerked back, clutching his torso like a child afraid of a storm. Steve’s mouth dropped open, his hands out in a placating manner.

“Don’t,” Bucky whispered. “Don’t touch me.”

Steve dropped his hands, nodding. “I’ll get you food.”

Bucky watched Steve leave the room before he crawled over to the bed. He kicked off his boots and curled up into a fetal position. If his Steve was here, he’d have never left. He’d have sat down and just stayed in the room, shadowed in darkness while Bucky worked out his problems. Bucky didn’t fault this Steve for that. Bucky was hungry and Steve thought he was helping. Bucky curled his arms around himself, biting his lip as he fought to remember he was okay. He wasn’t with _his_ Steve anymore, but it was still okay. He was with someone who seemed to love him. It didn’t matter what kind of flaws this Steve had. He loved Bucky. He loved Bucky, because he loved James. Bucky loved this Steve because he loved _his_ Steve. They were both settling for someone that was just a little off. Both making a sacrifice for some tiny glimpse of happiness. Bucky closed his eyes, thinking of that beard and how soft it was against his fingers. He wondered how it’d feel pressed up against his lips.

His focus on Steve helped him calm down. By the time Steve came back with fruit and fish, Bucky was sitting up on the bed. He offered up a little smile to Steve, meant more for apology than happiness.

Steve set the platter down in front of Bucky and then got onto the bed as well. He was still shirtless and Bucky’s gaze raked over that form, looking at the little tattoos over his collarbone now that he could really see them. _End of the line_. Bucky’s grimaced. He could feel the misery radiating off that tattoo like heat from an oven.

“Eat,” Steve instructed.

Bucky picked up a strawberry, twirling it in his fingers before bring it up to his lips. He bit down, sighing happily as the juice swirled against his tongue.

Steve smiled, sitting back. “James’ favorite was strawberries.”

“Mine too,” Bucky laughed. “Go figure. Is your favorite food apple pie?”

“Damn right it is,” Steve teased, snatching a strawberry and popping it into his mouth.

“Hot dogs though,” Bucky mused. “God, I could go for a good hot dog right now.”

“Pigs’re all dead,” Steve replied dryly.

Bucky sighed through his nose, munching on a strawberry. “What a shame. If you were still trying to find a way to get me back, I’d take you for a hot dog.”

“You said you’d stay,” Steve whispered.

“I know,” Bucky answered. “I am. Jus’ sayin’. If we ever found a way back over, I’d take you for a hot dog.” Bucky laughed, wiping strawberry juice from his lips. “Oh God! Steve would blow his lid! He’d be so curious about you.”

“He’d be disappointed,” Steve said, shrugging.

Bucky paused his hand before he grabbed another strawberry. He licked at his lips, tasting the faint tart taste of strawberries. “No he wouldn’t.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “C’mon. You didn’t have to say anything. I could see it in your eyes. I’m nothin’ like that Steve.”

Bucky recoiled his hands, dropping them into his lap. “S’not entirely true. You are– in ways.”

“Tell me?”

Bucky looked away, watching a shadow pass near their window. He assumed it was a shark or some big fish.

“You fight for what you believe in, right? You’re honest. You’re loyal and– and you’ve got a sense of purpose.”

“That it?” Steve asked, cocking a brow. He picked up the fish with his bare hand and handed some of it to Bucky.

Bucky didn’t want it, but he took it all the same. He nibbled on it, wincing at its metallic taste. He put the rest down and picked up a strawberry, munching down on the whole thing to give him an excuse not to answer Steve just yet.

“You’re different people with the same core,” Bucky explained. “I don’t want you to be just like him. If you were– you wouldn’t love me.”

Steve tilted his head to the side.

“I mean, you wouldn’t wanna, kiss and stuff.”

“Kiss ‘n stuff?” Steve laughed. “I don’t think we’ve ever kissed, nor have we done this _stuff_ you’re referring to.”

“Okay, there it is. You’ve got his sass too.”

Steve snorted, tossing back another strawberry. “You wanna kiss?”

Bucky choked on a strawberry. He pounded a fist against his chest to help it go down before looking back up. Steve was watching him with parted lips. Lips Bucky knew would taste as sweet as strawberries. His lashes cast shadows along the corners of his eyes and the glow from the light outside made his cheekbones look like he could cut glass with them.

“I mean– I-it’s not like– um. Shit.”

Steve laughed, scooting closer and pushing the tray of food away. He pulled Bucky into him, wrapping Bucky’s legs over where his thighs met his torso.

Bucky swallowed hard, wetting his lips.

“Do you wanna kiss me, Bucky Barnes?”

Bucky sucked in a breath, watching Steve’s smirk as he ran his red tongue over those strawberry sweet lips.

“Or you want me to kiss you?”

“W-what’s the difference?” Bucky whispered.

Steve laughed– a breathy little chuckle, sweet against Bucky’s face. He moved his face closer, brushing his nose against Bucky’s. “This is me kissing you,” he mumbled– his lips ghosting over Bucky’s. He pushed his lips against Bucky’s. Bucky’s whole body suddenly felt like it’d been dipped in warm wax. He melted against Steve, his bones barely able to keep him steady. Steve’s lips were just as sweet as Bucky’d assumed. His tongue was slow as it slipped over Bucky’s lower lip but it didn’t push further. Steve switched sides, wrapping a hand into Bucky’s hair to hold them together. His nose brushed against Bucky’s, their breath hot on each other’s lips.

Bucky moaned into the kiss, opening his mouth and flicking his tongue out to find Steve’s, but he couldn’t reach it.

Steve’s lips billowed against Bucky’s, slow and steady– like the waves high above them that coasted over the ocean. His beard tickled against Bucky’s chin, making sharp little sounds that echoed into the air as it brushed against Bucky’s stubble.

Bucky grabbed the back of Steve’s head, whining desperately as he pushed his face closer to Steve’s. He sat up, pushing himself into Steve’s lap fully, one arm wrapping around Steve’s shoulders and one still knotted into Steve’s hair. Bucky’s tongue flicked out of his mouth, pushing past Steve’s lips to greet Steve’s.

Steve moaned and it was everything Bucky had ever imagined it to be. It was whole, unabashed and _pleased_ . Bucky wanted to please him. He didn’t care that this Steve was a murderer. He didn’t care that he wasn’t the same Steve that Bucky left behind. He made _sense_ for Bucky. He was imperfect. Perhaps, even more suited for Bucky than the guy Bucky’d followed to war. Maybe this Steve was right. They were made for each other.

Bucky rolled his hips, groaning into the kiss as their teeth clacked together.

Steve’s fingers slipped up Bucky’s shirt, finding his nipples to tweak and pinch playfully.

Bucky rolled into the touch, whimpering as his lips closed over Steve’s. He turned his face, their lips a tangled mess and chins coated with saliva.

It wasn’t right. This wasn’t the Steve he left back home and this wasn’t the man he grew up with. But that’s exactly what made this _right_ in the wrong way. Through impossible circumstances they’d found each other. They fit together like the unwanted pieces of a puzzle, bent out of shape from years of rugged use.

Steve shoved Bucky down, growling as he climbed atop Bucky, undulating his hips between Bucky’s open thighs. Bucky panicked, feeling the press of Steve’s cock against him. Without breaking the kiss, he tried to worm back to close his legs.

Steve pulled back, looking down at Bucky, his breath hot and lips swollen. “S-sorry.”

Bucky nodded, his eyes wide as realization took over like a cold bucket of water. They were both men. Bucky understood the mechanics of sex between men, but he’d never done it before. He’d always had sex with women, and truth be told, he honestly hadn’t had that much sex even before. He’d found a girl during the war, one he’d taken comfort in. She was skinny and blonde and Bucky would be lying if he said he’d picked her because she was pretty. She’d reminded him of the small, angry man Bucky’d left behind.

It seemed like Bucky was always leaving his Steve behind. The thought punched Bucky in the gut, making him wheeze. He scampered back against the bed, pulling his knees up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around himself, staring right past Steve as memories of another Steve flooded back to him.

Lazy Sunday sketches while Bucky nursed a cigarette.

Conversations about Steve staying the night turning into fights because, _“I can handle myself Bucky!”_

Nights where Bucky stayed with Steve as Steve choked and gasped through bouts of colds.

Dates where Bucky got to be the one to take Steve home, one hand over his shoulder and one pressed to his chest. _“They’re not worth ya, Stevie! You’re so much better than those broads!”_

“Bucky?”

Bucky looked up, seeing the man who looked like his Steve. The man who’d stolen his face. Bucky shook his head, words blocked deep in his throat.

This wasn’t his Steve. No matter how much he tried, no matter how much he _wanted_ it. This man wasn’t the Steve that Bucky’s soul yearned for. His body yearned for this man, of course, but not his _soul._

“I can’t do this,” Bucky admitted. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Steve’s brow twitched. His adam’s apple bobbed pronouncedly against his throat but all that came out was a tiny squeak. One that pulled on Bucky’s heartstrings. He wanted to curl into this man’s lap and just fall asleep with those fingers threading through his hair. But he knew better. This was a bandage– a temporary fix.

“I love him,” Bucky continued. “I love him and he’s _alive_ . I have to go back. I’m sorry, but I have to. I _have_ to.” Bucky felt the tears slip from his eyes, sticky and hot against his cheeks. He saw Steve’s face, once so flushed with warmth and happiness, drained of all color. His eyes, heavy with rejection. It pained Bucky more. He didn’t want to do this to this man. It wasn’t this Steve’s fault he wasn’t Bucky’s Steve.

Steve nodded, gulping loudly. He took in a shaky breath before scooting to the edge of the bed.

“I get it,” he said.

Bucky relaxed, but his heart was still twisting in his chest, tying itself into knots and _still_ finding ways to squeeze and spin. He was clutching his chest in an attempt to dull the pain.

“If my James was alive– Yeah. I’d probably want the same.” Steve sucked back a ragged breath, folding over on himself before running his fingers through his hair. “Can’t you just– I’d give you everything.”

“I’m not right for this world,” Bucky whispered, slinking to sit beside Steve.

“Bullshit,” Steve sneered. “You fit right in and you know it.”

Bucky swallowed, but he didn’t say anything.

“God,” Steve sighed shakily. “What do I gotta do to make you love me?”

Bucky felt the arrow pierce his heart. He audibly whined from the pain he felt.

“It’s not a matter of making me do anything. My Steve’s out there. He’s lookin’ for me. I know it. I can’t leave ‘im alone.”

“He doesn’t want you the way I do,” Steve supplied.

“I know.” Bucky smiled sadly. “But I can’t help it. I’d follow him anywhere.”

Steve wiped the tears from his eyes, nodding. “I want you so badly.”

“And– I want you too. Just, I know I need to go back to him one day.”

“So what, you stay here till you’re bored of me?” The words hurt, but how else was Steve supposed to process this? Bucky was throwing him through the proverbial meat grinder. He was allowed a few bitter statements.

“I dunno,” Bucky answered honestly. “I stay till we figure out how to get me back.”

“What if we never figure it out?” Steve asked, looking up with pain-engulfed eyes. Bucky feared they might shatter like glass.

“Then I’ll stay forever,” Bucky answered. “But I’ve gotta– I just gotta know I’m tryin’ to get back to him.”

“Can I still kiss you?” Steve asked, sounding far younger than he looked.

Bucky nodded, pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Whenever you want. I’m yours till I can’t be anymore.”

Steve sighed heavily, dipping his chin against his chest. “And there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

Bucky shrugged. “Dunno. Just know I don’t give up on my Steve that easily.”

“Your Steve,” Steve whispered. “I hate him.”

Bucky smiled, though the gesture didn’t reach his eyes. “I can understand that.”

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” Steve said, standing. “You’re okay here, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll eat and get ready for bed.”

Steve grunted. He didn’t turn back to Bucky. He didn’t even bother putting a shirt on. He was up, through the heavy door and then he was gone.

Bucky sucked back a few gasps for air, the weight of his decision finally smacking him full throttle. He couldn’t give up on the one Steve Rogers he’d known all his life. There’d always be a part of him that’d be attracted to the Steve of this world. He maybe even loved him in some strange imprinting way. But the history he had with _his_ Steve was irreversible.

They were an absolute and Bucky couldn’t survive without the man he’d left behind.

* * *

When Bucky woke up, he was alone. There was a note on the desk saying Steve had left for a mission brief and Bucky was to go to the mess hall. He did as instructed and was greeted with a bowl of strawberries and another note.

_Hope you enjoy these. SR_

After he’d eaten the strawberries and a few bagels with jam, he felt a little lost, looking out at the sea of people who trickled in and out of the mess hall. They all looked at him, whispering to each other but none dared to approach. Not even Brock Rumlow. He scurried away, ducking half his face.

Bucky furrowed his brow, following the man out of the mess hall.

“Brock! Hey! Wait!” Bucky called as he broke out into a jog behind Brock.

Brock tried to smash the “close door” button on the elevator but Bucky jumped in before it could close all the way. They both took a moment to catch their breath, Bucky staring at the unlit level buttons.

“Why were you running from me?”

Brock shrugged, still hiding half his face with his hand.

“Put your hand down, pal,” Bucky said, stepping forward. “C’mon. Lemme see what he did.”

“H-how’d you know it was him?” Brock asked, putting his hand down as the elevator started to move. They hadn’t pushed the button; someone else must’ve.

“Because you ran from me.”

“Then why’d you ask why I ran?!”

Bucky ignored the question. He was too busy looking at the gash on Brock’s cheekbone. The skin was torn away and peeling over. He needed stitches.

“Did he punch you?” Bucky asked, staring at the open wound.

“With brass knuckles. Lucky I’m not dead.”

“Christ,” Bucky breathed out. “Why?”

“Because I was your friend,” Brock stated, looking at his shoes. “Said he doesn’t want anyone who was your friend near you.”

Anger coiled up around Bucky’s spine. He curled his fists in tight as he listened. How could Steve be so open with his tears, so open with his affections and turn around and be so _vile_ and controlling toward others? Bucky felt a metaphorical collar tighten against his neck and he snarled.

“You weren’t my friend,” Bucky hissed. “You were my handler.”

Brock blinked, looking confused.

“I said that to try to get him _off_ your back. Not on it.”

“Handler?” Brock tilted his head to the side. “What?”

“Where is he?” Bucky asked, his gaze going stone-cold.

“H-he’s with Stark. They’re in a meeting,” Brock mumbled as the doors of the elevator dinged open, revealing Natasha Romanov and Clint Barton.

They looked at each other before looking to Brock and Bucky.

“This ain’t what it looks like!” Brock cried out, holding out a hand and pushing himself back against the elevator wall.

“He needs medical attention,” Bucky growled. “And I’ll kill you both right now if you fuckin’ ignore me. I’m pissed off and you _don’t_ want to get in my way.”

Barton visibly flinched, looking to Romanov for leadership.

She smirked, leaning her weight onto one leg. “Now you’re startin’ to act like James Barnes.”

Bucky snarled. They way Steve had described James had made him sound gentle and kind. But now, Bucky was acting more like the Winter Soldier than he wanted and they were _appreciating_ him for acting like Steve’s dead husband. It was just another mystery to add to the bag. Bucky had more pressing matters to attend to right now.

“They’re above the sharks doing an interrogation,” Romanov said. “You were looking for Steve, right?”

Bucky dipped his chin, clenching his jaw.

“Shark tanks, floor above engines. Are you sure you wanna do this, Bucky?”

Bucky stepped forward. Barton took a step back but Romanov didn’t. Bucky pointed toward Brock, his snarl still on his face.

“That man needs medical attention. If I don’t see stitches in his cheek in two hours, I’ll make good on my promise to end you.”

Romanov just smiled wider. “You really are the man our Steve fell in love with.”

“Fuck off,” Bucky growled as he shoved Brock out of the elevator, listening to his fearful yelp. Bucky pressed the button for the shark tank level and continued to glare as the doors slowly shut, Barton, Brock and Romanov finally left behind. He breathed out a sigh of relief, relaxing his shoulders and leaning against the elevator’s sides. Being cruel and menacing took a lot out of him. It was easier when he had no mind of his own. It was easier to kill when HYDRA was the one pulling all the strings.

He arrived at the shark tank level, walking onto the rafters above the tanks. Steve and Tony were leaning over someone in a chair. The person was tied to it and struggling against the restraints.

“Where is it, Zemo?” Tony asked casually. “Do you really wanna be shark food?”

“Fuck you,” the man, Zemo, hissed.

Tony looked over to Steve, flicking up his brows.

Steve moved forward, bringing out the sword he’d been sharpening the day before. He pointed it at the man’s throat, his gaze impassive. The man swallowed hard.

“Last chance,” Steve said. “Or I’ll cut your face and tip you down to the sharks. You know what a feeding frenzy is right? Blood gets ‘em all riled up.”

“Bucky?” Tony abruptly asked, looking visibly shocked despite his mangled face.

Zemo gasped, his eyes going round. “So it is true. You’ve got an other-worlder here.”

Steve slit his throat and pushed him down into the water.

“Hey! We needed him!” Tony barked.

“He saw Bucky!” Steve shouted back. “If word gets out Bucky’s here–”

“What?” Bucky interrupted, stepping forward. “What’ll happen?”

Tony sucked at his teeth with his tongue, clicking loudly. “Floor’s all yours, genius.”

Steve glared at him before walking over to Bucky, keeping his hands on the railing as he walked above the giant shark tank.

Bucky watched as the sharks bloodied the water with the dead man’s body. He gulped, feeling guilt pour into his heart. That life, that was on him now. Steve’d killed him because of Bucky. Not even a week, and Bucky was already racking up a body count.

“Most people in our line of work know James is dead. They see you, and they put two and two together. Other-worlders destroyed us once. They’ll think you’re here to finish the job.”

“And they won’t be the only ones,” Tony added. “A lot of the guys on this base think you’re here to pick up where the others left off. Looking for revenge or something.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky professed. “I’m just here because I had no choice. I told you, me n’ Steve were looking for HYDRA and we tracked them to a base and then I got transported here.”

“HYDRA?” Tony asked.

“They–”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve put in. “They’re not important right now.”

“But what if they are,” Bucky whispered. “What if they’re tryin’ to get here.”

“The last people that came over weren’t called HYDRA,” Tony said, looking down at the shark tank as one fin splashed water up at him. “Hey! Little shit!”

Bucky almost smiled.

“They were called SHIELD,” Tony finished.

Bucky’s mouth dropped open, his fingers and toes going cold. “That’s why Fury hates me.”

Steve nodded.

“W-why didn’t you tell me?” Bucky asked, taking a step back. He wavered on the rafter and Steve reached out to catch him. Bucky allowed himself to be folded into Steve’s arms. He even wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist. He couldn’t help it. He was selfish. Always would be.

“I didn’t wanna frighten you,” Steve whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear. “You were in shock enough as it was.”

“You’re with SHIELD?” Tony asked. He walked over to the pair, paying no mind to how tight Bucky was pressed into Steve's arms. Bucky liked how love between a man and a man was as simple and normal as love between a man and a woman here. In some ways, this world was much superior to his own.

“Sorta,” Bucky explained. “The Steve in my world, he worked for SHIELD for a while. Found out HYDRA had me and that HYDRA had infiltrated SHIELD. HYDRA’s bad news in our world. They wanted to kill a lot of people and they were using me as their attack dog.”

Steve’s grip tightened just a bit on Bucky’s waist.

“Brought both SHIELD and HYDRA down. Then the people with enhanced abilities, they became the Avengers. You’re one of them. They call you Iron Man. You’ve got a flying suit of armor that does a lot of cool shit, honestly. All that arc reactor power.”

“Why didn’t you mention that yesterday?” Tony laughed.

Bucky smiled. “Because I was still shocked about– about your scar.”

Tony took a step back, touching the scarring on his face.

Steve whined in his throat.

“S-sorry,” Bucky apologized. “My Steve’s called Captain America– a stupid name they gave him during World War II but it’s stuck. They and some others protect our world. SHIELD’s still around, but it’s not what it used to be. They cleared out all the bad.”

“Well, the name SHIELD here reminds people of the twelve agents that nearly destroyed our world.”

“Wonder if they were HYDRA,” Bucky mused, looking at Steve’s chest. “If they were, maybe HYDRA’s tryin’ to come back. Maybe use your people to start an army or something. I dunno. I just know this isn’t good if HYDRA’s tryin’ to get over here. Maybe that machine wasn’t meant to send me. It was meant to send them.”

Steve and Tony looked to each other, both of them with matching looks of concern.

“I like this one better than your last one,” Tony admitted, pointing to Bucky. “As long as he doesn’t try to kill me too.”

Bucky dipped his head against Steve’s shoulder, smiling as delicately as he could at Tony. Steve just squeezed him a bit harder.

“Don’t think he will,” Steve supplied, kissing Bucky on the head. He pulled back, giving Bucky’s hand a gentle squeeze before he started walking toward the elevator again. “I’ve gotta talk to Fury.”

Tony scoffed, running his hand through his hair. “Of course he leaves me to do all the cleaning up. Typical.”

Bucky watched Tony move over to some panels with knobs and buttons.

“What’s that do?” Bucky asked.

“We gotta clean the blood outta the water to bring the sharks down from the frenzy. Can’t have them killin’ each other.”

Bucky nodded, watching Tony work the buttons and knobs.

“Can I– ask an ignorant question?”

“I suppose you’ve earned one,” Tony replied sardonically.

“Why’d James try to kill you?”

Tony barked out a laugh, touching his face. He sat back, looking at the sharks as they slowly started to come down from their frenzy. The chair, the rope, everything that had contained the man, was now gone.

“I was a threat,” Tony answered. “I’m only here because Fury pays the best. But you’ll notice I’m the most hated person on this base. Steve’s the only one who really tolerates me. I sell tech to the highest bidder and sometimes when I’m bored, I toss out some tech to watch wars start. It’s the best way to test my inventions.”

“That’s disgusting,” Bucky stated flatly.

Tony shrugged. “Yeah well, it keeps my name feared and my pockets lined. Gotta survive somehow in this godforsaken world, huh?”

“And you can’t just let BLADE protect you?”

Tony rolled his eyes, moving away from the control panel. “BLADE doesn’t protect anyone. They’re not a military organization like your ARMY or NAVY. They’re a privatized military faction that listens to one man and one man only. Fury. And the name tells you all you gotta know. They’re survivors. They’re no one’s protectors.”

“What’s the purpose of them then?” Bucky asked.

“Power,” Tony answered. “Fear and power.”

* * *

Bucky found an odd sense of calm, staring out over the sharks in the tank. After dinner, he’d come down here to be alone and reflect on, yet again, another head-spinning day. He still needed to talk to Steve about Brock. He still needed to ask about James and he still needed to see if Steve really knew Natasha was planning to kill Steve one day. Bucky was conflicted. He couldn’t just leave a man when a woman like that was planning out his death. It felt akin to leading lambs to slaughter. Though Steve was no lamb. He was a lion in his own right.

Bucky heard the elevator ding and heavy footsteps behind him. He continued to stare out at the sharks all around, swimming lazily in the water.He wondered if they’d try to jump and bite his legs off if he let his feet hang from the rafter. A strange thought, but one he had all the same.

“Hey,” Steve said as he sat down next to him.

“Hey,” Bucky replied.

Steve sighed, taking a moment to settle in. He looked at Bucky, his face impassive, but Bucky could see the yearning in his eyes. Bucky closed his own, trying to shake the feeling of guilt away. He was playing with this man and it wasn’t fair. But Bucky couldn’t deny the confusion he felt. He _wanted_ Steve, but he wanted to be with _his_ Steve too. It’s just that his Steve back home, regardless of their relationship, would always win out. No matter how much Bucky’s heart yearned for another.

“Fury appreciates the tip. Your intel was pretty important, actually.”

Bucky nodded, watching a tiger shark skirt the surface of the water before diving back down.

“So what’s the next step then? Gonna try to stop HYDRA?”

“Well, we can only stop HYDRA if we sabotage their equipment and we can only do that if we travel to your world.”

“So what’ll you do?” Bucky asked. He reached his hand out, waiting for Steve to take it. Steve didn’t hesitate.

They sat there in a quiet silence, Steve’s thumb brushing back and forth against Bucky’s hand.

“We’re trying to figure out a way to sever the open seam in reality– the gap that attaches your world to ours. But before that, we can man a mission and go over to sabotage the machinery and– give you back to your Steve.”

Bucky squeezed Steve’s hand just a bit harder.

“I was ready to throw you to the sharks today, after seeing what you did to Brock’s face.”

Steve didn’t even flinch.

“I lied to you. Brock Rumlow wasn’t a friend. He was one of my captors.”

Steve did flinch.

“But he’s nice here. Real sweet guy and you’re too cruel to him. And I get it– the strong prey on the weak. But he’s loyal. If he wasn’t, he’d have tried something by now, right?” Bucky looked up at Steve, his brows pinching together. “If I can forgive him for all the abuse and torture I experienced, why can’t you forgive him for just having a good heart?”

Steve looked out to the sharks, licking the corner of his lips. “Because that makes me weak and I become the target. Me constantly hurting him is my way of protecting him. Otherwise, I’m supposed to kill him, and I can’t do that.”

Bucky’s eyes went round, his lips parting. “Y-you’re protecting him?”

Steve nodded, offering a crooked smile. “I know he’s a good guy. I want a man like that as a subordinate, but I’ve gotta look strong to the rest of ‘em. Or else we’d both be dead.”

“So, you abuse him to keep him alive?”

Steve nodded again. “I’m not a monster, Bucky. I know you think I am, but I’m not.”

“That’s not–” Bucky didn’t even let himself finish. He knew it was a boldfaced lie. He slumped down a bit, leaning against Steve. “I’m glad I was wrong.”

Steve wrapped an arm around Bucky’s shoulder, smiling.

“But I need you to be honest with me now,” Bucky began, feeling his heart quiver. “How’d James die?”

Steve took in a sharp breath, his body going rigid. He swallowed loudly. “Why?”

“I’ve heard things. I threatened Romanov’s life after I saw Brock’s face today. She said I reminded her of James and Brock accidently let it slip that you killed James. So– I just gotta know the truth. I need to know what I’m up against here.”

“You mean you need to know how big of a threat I am to you,” Steve clarified.

Bucky shifted against Steve, scooting between the man’s legs to rest his head back.

“I don’t think you’re a threat to me. Not really.”

Steve yawned, looking out at the sharks. “You threatened Romanov’s life?”

“I was pissed,” Bucky replied with a shy smile.

Steve looked down at him, a proud grin on his face. He scratched his fingers through his beard before returning his gaze to the sharks. His smile faded, the color in his cheeks draining.

“James was my subordinate. A staff sergeant, like Barton. And you remember how we get promoted, right?”

Bucky nodded, clearing his throat.

Steve ducked his head, running his fingers through his hair, sending the spikes every which way. He sniffed. Every little twitch of muscle, every little shift and Bucky could feel how tense he’d become.

“I was so in love with him. I swear I was. I even–” His voice cracked and he gulped in a breath of air. “Fuck. James was ambitious. You said you’d follow your Steve everywhere. Well, my James didn’t like the idea of always following me. He loved me. I know he did. We’d spent _years_ together. So I know– I know there had to’ve been a time whenwhere we were happy.”

Bucky could feel where the story was going. It felt like glass was pressing into his skin. He reached for one of Steve’s hands and craned his neck to stare up at the man’s wet eyes.

“He tried to kill me,” Steve said flatly. “I almost let ‘im.” He swallowed again, wiping at his eyes with his free hand. “I tried asking him why, ya know? Why he’d betray our marriage like that. I mean we were _happy_. Or I thought we were.”

Bucky sucked in his lips, feeling his heart tremble along with Steve’s. He nuzzled into Steve’s neck, using his metal hand to cup the back of Steve’s head and gently scratch at his hairline.

Steve hummed approvingly, his eyes fluttering shut. Bucky watched the tears slip down his face. Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen someone cry so much, but most people never saw their dead lover’s doppelgänger. They both had experienced an emotional journey over the past few days. A few good cries were allowed.

“So he tried to kill me and instead of him killin’ me, I killed him. Cause that’s how it goes when you challenge a superior. You die or they die. No draws or ties.”

“Did he say anything, when he died?”

“He got out, ‘looks like this is the end’ before his eyes closed for good.”

_To the end of the line._

Bucky licked his lips, watching a large shark swim beneath them. Any man would be ruined by such an experience. No wonder Steve was desperate to keep Bucky. It was a free pass– a do-over. This Steve carried the guilt of killing his lover, even if James had tried to kill him first. It hadn’t been his fault. But Steve had dealt the killing blow and that’s all that mattered to him. Bucky found it ironic, both Steves blaming themselves for what had happened to their respective Buckys.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Bucky whispered, pressing a kiss to Steve’s jawline. “I’m so sorry.”

Steve wiped at his eyes again, staring out at the swimming sharks. “It’s over. And– I’ve got you.” He ran his tongue along his teeth. “For now.”

Bucky sighed heavily, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry I’m not much of an improvement.”

Steve snorted. “You don’t have any interest in military standing here. You’re a huge improvement.”

“But all I’m doin’ is breaking your heart,” Bucky pressed. “I’m here, but I’m not.”

“Indulge me? That’s all I ask. Just– just pretend while you’re here.”

Bucky winced at the desperation in those words. The open honesty that flowed from Steve’s pained soul and into Bucky’s. His eyes were glassy and Bucky could finally see the age within him. How _tired_ Steve was. It had to be such a journey to prove to everyone over and over that you were the best. That’d tear at anyone.

“I’m not pretending,” Bucky said, turning to kneel between Steve’s legs. “I really do care about you.”

Steve licked his lips, looking away at the sharks below.

“I’m sorry I’m hurting you. I don’t want to,” Bucky explained, cupping Steve’s face. “I _swear_ I don’t want to. But my Steve– I know he doesn’t want me the way you do, but he _needs_ me. And I can’t leave him. I mean, look at you. Without your James? You’re not the same. You never will be. But you had him. I know how it ended was impossibly hard and you’ll never get over that, but of course you two were happy. Of course he loved you. Because I– I love you. I don’t know you, but I _love_ you. So I know he loved you too. People aren’t perfect. We do dumb shit and James, James did something stupid and it got him killed. And it’s unbelievably unfair that it had to be against you. But you had him. And he loved you. As long as my Steve’s alive– I know he loves me. I know he needs me and I can’t abandon him no matter how badly I want to.”

“But you want to,” Steve analyzed, looking up with round blue eyes.

Bucky bit his lip, looking down at one of the sharks. “It’s complicated. Part of me wants to stay. Part of me knows I’ve gotta go back. It’d be easier– staying. Cleaning my slate and starting over as someone else. But easier isn’t right. This dumb punk I grew up with taught me that.”

Steve laughed, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s cheek. “This dumb punk named Rogers?”

“Damn right.” Bucky smiled, wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck. “He’s very persistent inabout his lectures.”

Steve looked away, a pained smile on his face. “We should go swimming.”

Bucky cocked a brow, looking around at the shark infested waters in the large room.

Steve stood up, reaching down for Bucky’s hand. “C’mon.”

“Where?” Bucky asked, letting Steve help him up.

“Right here,” Steve answered, taking his shirt off. Bucky stared at the tattoo on Steve’s clavicle. Sorrow wound itself around Bucky’s heart at those four little words. _End of the line_ . Bucky didn’t want any Steve to ever feel an end like that. Bucky had always thought those words meant death, and dying _together_. But this Steve got left behind. This Steve had to lose his love in the worst way possible– by his own hands.

“Steve, I watched these sharks eat a man earlier today, or have you forgotten?”

“People give sharks a bad name,” Steve said as he walked over to the control panel. He pushed a button and one of the rafters morphed into a stepping ladder. “You’re not bleeding, right?”

Bucky looked around, his eyes bulging as he gaped. “S-Steve!”

Steve tossed his head back, letting out  a howl of laughter. “Live a little, Barnes! They’re not monsters. They’re just like you n’ me.”

Bucky’s eyes softened as he watched Steve strip off his pants and neatly drape them over a railing. Bucky wasn’t a monster. He’d survived a terrible experience. His will had been broken. His life had been threatened. He’d lived and he wasn’t a monster. And Steve– Steve killed subordinates in a world where culling the weak was the way of life. It got Bucky thinking about a play he’d read in high school by William Shakespeare.

_Nothing is either good or bad, but thinking makes it so._

Steve was neither good nor bad. He was an entity in a culture that wasn’t the same as Bucky’s. A culture that would accept Bucky implicitly where his own would find him flawed.

Bucky sighed, standing up and tugging his shirt off.

Steve wolf whistled at him before turning to stand on the top step of the stepping ladder. It flowed into the tank below them, disappearing into the darker waters.

“Christ,” Bucky grumbled as he slipped out of his pants. He folded his next to Steve’s and walked over to the stairs.

Steve took another step back into the shark tank, a small smile on his face.

“We’re gonna get mauled.”

“S’okay,” Steve responded. He reached up a hand to Bucky, taking another step back. He was now up to his mid-thigh in the water. “Trust me.”

Bucky took a step into the water, tensing when a shark went right by Steve.

Steve laughed, taking another step back. “Trust me.”

“You’re not trying to kill me so no one else can have me, right?” Bucky teased. He took another step into the water.

“Absolutely not,” Steve spoke through a smile. “I’m proving a point.”

“And what point is that?” Bucky asked as he took another step into the tank, and another…and another.

Steve was fully in the water now, holding onto the stairs since their feet wouldn’t be able to touch the floor.

“That people misjudge too quickly.” He reached out to one of the sharks, stroking his fingers over its gray back.

Bucky took another step, the water up to his waist. He was on the last step. He looked out at the sharks. He couldn’t figure out how many were there. He counted at least twelve before he started getting confused, and there were a few unmoving shadows down at the bottom. He wasn’t sure if they were sharks or not. He assumed they were.

“Trust me,” Steve said again, reaching over to Bucky. “They won’t hurt you. And neither will I.”

Bucky allowed a smile to spread across his face. He let go of the stairs and waded out into the water. He clutched Steve’s hand as they both kicked their feet slowly, using their free hands to wade the water to stay afloat.

“I’m literally swimming with sharks,” Bucky observed. “Holy fuck.”

Steve laughed, letting go and swimming out further. He pet another shark. It circled him, allowing him to stroke over its body one more time before it darted off.

“They’re not monsters. They’re just fish.”

Bucky looked around him, worried about accidentally kicking a shark in the face. He swam out to Steve, watching a shark come at them. “Uh, Steve?”

“S’okay. She’s just curious.”

“She?”

The shark bumped her nose on Bucky’s metal arm before redirecting and swimming away.

“I know all their names. Know their genders and their ages,” Steve explained. “That one’s Moose. Cause ya’know, he’s as big as one.”

Bucky laughed.

Steve turned around and pointed at a shark with black tips on its fins. “That’s Sierra. She’s fun.”

Bucky couldn’t hide the look of wonder on his face as Steve dove into the water and swam up to the shark. She skirted away from him before turning back around and bumping her nose against him and then swimming beneath him.

Steve came back up, taking in a big gulp of air and swishing his hair to the side.

“They’re just fish, Bucky. And they don’t eat unless hungry. Blood triggers a frenzy but that’s about it.”

One of the sharks’ fins caressed against Bucky’s foot, sending him jumping into Steve’s arms.

Steve laughed, wrapping an arm around Bucky and swimming over to the stairs. He reached his other hand out to grasp the railing so he didn’t have to wade the water as much.

Bucky watched the sharks swim by them, like they weren’t even there. He was mesmerized by them. Even found some of them beautiful, like Sierra.

“S-so cause they ate that guy, they’re good?”

“Sharks don’t have to eat daily to not be hungry. Though, it’s better for us that yes, they did eat today.”

“So they could eat us?” Bucky asked, wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist. He waded his arms out in the lukewarm water, looking up at the rafters high above them.

“They’re predators. They absolutely could eat us. But it’s not likely.”

“How’re you so sure?” Bucky leaned forward to wrap his arms around Steve’s shoulders loosely. He stared at Steve, licking his lips slowly.

Steve reached out to one of the smaller sharks and gently guided it over to them. “Touch her.”

“What?”

Steve laughed, gently stroking the creature’s nose. “It’s okay. I can tell when they’re getting pissed.”

“So you’re what? A marine biologist?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “No, I’m just good at reading them. I spend a lot of time with them actually.”

“So what’s this one’s name?” Bucky asked as he stroked the slimy smooth skin.

“Foxy,” Steve answered. “It’s not too clever a name. She’s a fox shark.” Steve gently picked up the shark’s caudal fin, exposing how long it was. “That’s why they call ‘em foxes. And they’re small.”

“Is she still okay?” Bucky asked as the shark twitched her caudal fin.

“She’s getting a little irritated. I’m gonna let her go.” Steve assisted the little shark in darting down into the water.

Bucky watched her come to a stop near one of the larger shadows, her tiny shadow a dwarf in comparison.

“What sharks’re down there?”

“The good kind,” Steve replied, flicking water playfully at Bucky.

“W– Hey!” He splashed some water back at Steve.

Steve laughed, diving under. Bucky had two choices: go down underwater with Steve or let go. He chose to let go in fear of those dark shadows at the bottom.

Steve went all the way down, becoming a shadow at the bottom as well. The large shadow moved. Bucky held his breath, watching. If he saw blood, he’d be out of here so fast…

Steve came back up, shaking his hair out and swimming back over to Bucky.

“What kind of shark is it?” Bucky asked, curling his arms and legs around Steve again.

“Sand shark. He’s sleepin’ right now.”

“His name Sandy?” Bucky teased, nipping Steve’s ear.

“Mmm, no. Max.”

“Such a simple name for a huge shark.”

Steve shrugged. “It’s short for Maximillian.”

“That’s more like it,” Bucky laughed out. He nuzzled his nose against Steve’s. It was cold, like Steve’s fingers. Bucky wasn’t used to Steve being cold. Whenever he touched his Steve back home, the man was always a raging furnace. Then again, the waters around them weren’t exactly bathtub temperature.

“This is really nice, Steve,” Bucky admitted, looking between them. “And your point is more than proven.”

Steve let a crooked smile tease his lips. He reached his free hand up, tucking a strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear.

“You’re worth risking my life for.” His smirk turned into a shit-eating grin and Bucky had to splash him again. “Hey!” He wiped at his eyes, chuckling.

“You’re a little shit, Rogers!”

“Have you ever kissed someone underwater?” Steve asked suddenly, moving away from the stairs.

Bucky shook his head, looking around them. “I dunno if I’m ready to go under this water.”

“It’s okay,” Steve soothed, cupping Bucky’s face. “I promise it’s okay.”

“These are literally man-eating sharks.”

Steve kissed Bucky’s cheek, slow and softly.

“They could attack us at any second.”

Steve kissed Bucky’s other cheek, just as gentle as before.

“We could die!”

Steve laughed, kissing Bucky’s nose.

“You’re just like the other Steve. He’s full of bad, stupid ideas too.”

“Good,” Steve said. “So you’ll kiss me underwater surrounded by man-eating sharks? Cause I wanna kiss you underwater surrounded by man-eating sharks.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “What the hell.”

Steve lowered them both into the water. It was cooler beneath the surface. Bucky kept his eyes closed but he felt Steve’s nose press against his. He felt Steve’s arms wrap around him, holding his face close and then Steve’s lips slotted against his.

Saltwater rushed into Bucky’s mouth as he opened it for the kiss. He worked hard not to swallow the water down. It was unlike any kiss he’d ever experienced. He could feel the air bubbles tickle up his face as they went to the surface. Their mouths were open, tongues flirting with each other shyly, but it didn’t feel _wet_. It was all wet. No air, no space between them. Just water.

Bucky laughed, letting a few air bubbles tickle their faces. He pressed his lips against Steve’s again, holding them there. They didn’t move, just held the kiss until Bucky’s lungs started to burn and he pulled away.

Steve kicked and then in a few seconds, they were back above the water.

Bucky flicked his head to the side, sloshing water off his hair and getting the wet strands out of his face. He laughed, his legs and arms still wrapped around Steve.

“So I was your first underwater kiss?” Steve asked as he swam back over to the stairs.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “It was different. But a good different.”

“We should get out now. I’m pruning.” Steve gestured to the stairs that casually floated against the water.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. “I’ve flirted with death enough today. _God_ , I threatened Natasha Romanov’s life. That’s deadly no matter what reality you’re in!” He climbed out of the water, shivering as the cold nipped at his skin. “Wish we had towels.”

Steve laughed as he climbed up behind Bucky. “Yeah, you absolutely need to sleep with one eye open.”

“Oh my God, is she gonna try to kill me?”

Steve shook his head, going over to his pants and pulling a small earpiece out of his pocket. “Nah. She’d gain nothing from that. Except a target on her back from me.”

“And because she hasn’t killed you, she thinks you’re stronger, right?”

“She’s terrified of me.” Steve turned away, bringing the earpiece to his ear and a little wire up to his lips. “Rumlow, bring towels down to the shark tank, now.”

Bucky swallowed, his eyes rounding as he listened to that curt tone. “We don’t hafta make him do that.”

“Just wait,” Steve said as he moved to sit on one of the stairs that led back into the shark tank.

Brock came down a few minutes later with a few towels. His gash was sewn up, which pleased Bucky considerably. He held a towel out to Bucky silently before moving over to Steve and offering him one too. He tried to stay as far away as possible from the stairs into the tank.

Steve took a towel and then quickly grabbed Brock’s wrist.

The man yelped.

Bucky lunged forward, his eyes wide as confusion and fear filtered into them.

“Thank you,” Steve said, making everyone relax.

“Y-you’re welcome, sir,” Brock replied, standing back and offering a shy smile toward Bucky.

Bucky just shrugged, matching that smile. It wouldn’t change anything. In front of everyone else, Steve still had to treat Brock like shit, but Bucky knew now. Steve was protecting Brock from death because he _liked_ him. Steve wasn’t the soulless creature Bucky almost thought him to be. Just like the sharks, Bucky had misunderstood Steve.

Brock left. Bucky turned to Steve, a wide smile on his face. “You were nice.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve drawled. “Don’t get used to it. I’ve got a reputation to protect, remember?”

“That meant a lot to me,” Bucky pressed on, sliding up to Steve. He pressed his hand against Steve’s chest, feeling those pectoral muscles under his fingers. “So thank you.”

Steve looked at Bucky, his eyes unreadable as they searched for something Bucky wasn’t sure existed inside him.

“Thank you– for giving me a chance.”

Bucky smiled down at his feet. “Oh come on. You’re a total catch. Who wouldn’t give you a chance?”

“Lots’a people. You loved your Steve, even when he was smaller, right?”

Bucky bit his lip, remembering Steve’s once delicate features, his gentle jawline, and big angry eyes. “Unequivocally.”

Steve smiled, pressing a soft kiss to Bucky’s lips. He lingered for a few moments before pulling back slowly, his eyes opening.

“It’s amazing how different you are from him,” Steve detailed, running his fingers along Bucky’s jawline. “Or maybe your world’s just gentler.”

“Well,” Bucky began, leaning into Steve’s hand. “My world isn’t about culling the weak– so.”

“Nnn.” Steve pushed Bucky against the railing, wedging a leg between Bucky’s to pin him there. “James didn’t love me till I was like this. But you’ve always loved your Steve.”

Bucky nodded, unsure of what to say or where this conversation was going.

Steve pressed himself against Bucky, brushing his nose along Bucky’s jaw, nipping softly.

“St-Steve,” Bucky gasped, curling his fingers against Steve’s bare torso.

Steve pulled back, a casual expression on his face.

Bucky felt flustered, like his heart was in the wrong place and his stomach was too busy trying to decipher what Bucky had eaten that week. His cock pulsed in his wet briefs and he _prayed_ that it wouldn’t decide to pitch a tent against the wet fabric.

“That just makes me feel good,” Steve finally said. “That you’ve always loved him– weak or strong.”

Bucky’s lips parted slowly.

Steve leaned in like he was about to kiss Bucky again. Bucky’s body yearned for him, wanting that warmth to sidle up against him. But it never came. Steve just stood there, looking at Bucky with a look of sadness and resignation on his face. He turned around, making his way for the elevator. Bucky was left sputtering, his mind racing to catch up.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Artist Note:** The art is of the scene where Bucky and Steve kiss underwater. This was such a gorgeous, sweet little moment amidst all the angst. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! - Hope


	3. Off With His Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve makes up his mind about something. Bucky starts to weigh his decisions on Steve and how he feels about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always: The actions, thoughts and ideologies of the characters do not necessarily reflect the viewpoint of the author. Please keep that in mind when reading this fic.  
> If you're on the third chapter, I assume you saw the warnings on the first chapters.
> 
> I cannot say my thanks enough to [nataliarushman](http://nataliarushman.tumblr.com/), who is my knight in shining armor...only with fierce wing game on her eyes ;)
> 
> Artwork, as always, done by the lovely [hopeless--geek](http://hopeless--geek.tumblr.com/) at the end of the chapter! Can't thank her enough for giving me the opportunity to write this fic!
> 
> Add me on tumblr if you'd like! [buckmebxrnes](http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/)  
> 

Steve walked the corridors of the underwater base, giving curt nods to the men and women he passed as they mumbled their recognition of him. _Evening, Captain._ The ones that averted their eyes though– he stepped into their line of sight and growled, forcing them to stumble over the simple title of captain. It was necessary, this mild aggression. He needed to remind each and every one of them of his capabilities, of his _right_ to be their superior. One slip would mean he’d lose it all.

The brutality of his world was balanced by the tolerance of affection and bonds between people. BLADE had no anti-fraternization rules, though the world had rules in place before World War II. But Steve hadn’t been interested in a relationship back then. Not even after the war, not even with James. It wasn’t until what was left of the US military kept them in cryo for periods of time in an effort to preserve them in case they were needed that Steve found love and affection in James. James and Steve hadn’t grown up together, not like how Bucky got to grow up with the other Steve. And after the US officially fell and Steve and James were on the run for their lives, that’s when their love _really_ started. And they had no qualms showing it to anyone and everyone. That was the beauty of this world. Everything was violent. You loved violently and you fought violently. No in between.

Steve remembered the days where he refused to sleep so James could rest. He remembered the nights they hunkered down in brothels with each other, making love for hours. The smiles they shared even as blood splattered around them in fights. The giggles as they stitched each other up.

His heart squeezed, an anguished pain that surged from his heart down his toes and up into the backs of his eyes; he saw white. Gasping, he leaned against the corridor, staring at the floor. _James_. Bucky was right, no matter what– no matter how much time has passed– Steve would always love his James. It would be the one regret Steve would carry with him till Hell opened its gates to him.

No one on this planet deserved Heaven. They’d turned their backs on God when God turned His back on them.

Even James was in Hell. He’d been ruthless, smart as he was beautiful and so very cruel. But there’d been a tenderness in him that only Steve could bring out. Tiny gasps, small smiles– soft nuzzles in the early mornings. His laugh… Oh how Steve missed that laugh.

_‘Why James?’_

Steve pulled himself off the wall, playing with his wedding band as he straightened his shoulders and held his head high. He had to look proud. He had to be the epitome of ruthless precision– even if he was crumbling away to nothing inside, like the ruins back in America.

Perhaps death would be a mercy. At least he’d have James again, and Bucky could go home.

He sucked in his lips, thinking of the man he’d left alone for the day. He’d assigned Brock to keep watch, which was really a translation for letting Brock have an easy day without the sneers and threats from the other soldiers. Bucky had taken a liking to Brock, despite his memories of a man with the same face who’d inflicted so much pain on him.

Steve admired the strength in Bucky. James had never carried himself so strongly. There’d always been a frantic quality behind James. A fear that he could never entirely hide from his face. Bucky didn’t have that same fear. He carried guilt and anger, but there was no fear.

Steve paused at an elevator, pressing the button to go up to Fury’s quarters, thoughts still focused on Bucky. Bucky loved _his_ Steve. And as long as that Steve was alive, there’d always be a reason for Bucky to want to leave. It didn’t matter what Steve did. He could travel the world with Bucky, show him the good that Bucky so desperately wanted to see in a world ravaged by war. He could tell Bucky over and over again how he _wasn’t_ the monster Bucky saw. It didn’t matter. Bucky would always love the Steve he’d left behind. What made this Steve better? What was it about him that drew Bucky’s affection that he’d give up on love just to settle for friendship? That Steve clearly didn’t treat Bucky right.

Bucky was no James. James was no Bucky– but they were still the same person, shaped by different experiences. At their cores, they were the same. Selfish, stubborn, over-analytical, and vastly intelligent. And best of all? They both had weak spots for men named Steve Rogers.

Steve smiled fondly, stepping into the elevator and using his keycard to grant him access to Fury’s floor. Bucky was the best thing to happen to Steve since James had died. After two years of being alone, after carrying the guilt and constant questions over what had occurred between Steve and James, Bucky was there. A fresh start. A way to heal weeping wounds. Steve hadn’t slept so well since his bed was always cold. He cried more often than not. He’d always cried easily. It was the one thing this damn serum couldn’t change. He’d been the weakest little thing once. The serum may have changed his body, but it had never changed his soul. If anything, it was like the serum had made _everything_ stronger. Emotions, pain, comfort, everything. Touch was more intense. Guilt made him physically sick. He had to carry it all alone. He couldn’t tell anyone. They’d kill him.

But Bucky… He _could_ share with him. Bucky wasn’t from here. He didn’t have the drive or ambition to kill his way to the top. He didn’t _care_ about that. He understood Steve in a way that didn’t need an explanation. Steve wanted to keep that. He wanted someone to finally share his secrets with. Someone to help him feel– human.

The bell dinged, and the elevator opened to a large room. Steve walked in, looking up at the large windows out to the ocean. He stopped before a cluttered desk, picking up a single picture of a woman.

“Don’t,” Fury’s voice pierced the silent room.

Steve put the picture back down, turning to his commanding officer.

Fury was dressed in his typical garb, black leathers that obstructed most of his body. It gave him a bulky appearance, but Steve knew better. That man possessed a body made from the bowels of Hell itself. He was brutality incarnate and when a man like that told you ‘don’t’ you _don’t_.

“Sir,” Steve greeted. He crossed his arms over his chest in salute.

Fury just nodded, a permanent scowl upon his face. He moved over to the desk, picking up the picture, his eyes unreadable. He set it face-down and then looked back up.

“I need to cross over,” Steve began. His voice was steady, brow stern. He stood at ease but his chest was raised up proudly.

“No.”

“It’s important.”

“Bucky Barnes is no more important than the dirt on my shoes,” Fury commented, moving to sit behind his desk. He looked up at Steve with disdain, a burning anger behind his brown eyes.

“Sir,” Steve responded curtly. “Bucky Barnes is an ally. He’s our best shot at protecting ourselves from other-worlders and–”

“Bucky Barnes is a pretty face that gives you comfort. You realize you’ve achieved all this without James right? You were just a Sergeant with him around. You didn’t come into your own until you killed him.”

Steve clenched his teeth, glaring maliciously at Fury.

Fury picked up a file, flipping through a few pages before stopping on one. He dropped it on the desk for Steve.

“That’s who your Bucky Barnes is with. He’s not an ally. He’s an enemy. If those people come through, we’re expected to stop them. Border defense, remember? We get paid a lot of money to make sure Russia doesn’t fall to enemies or other-worlders.”

Steve picked up the file, looking at a man in an iron suit, against a green mass of a monster and the man with the shield.

_‘My Steve carries a shield.’_

“That’s Captain America,” Steve observed, biting his lip. The man in the picture had his lips and jawline– clear as day without a beard, but other than that, Steve couldn’t see anything else because of the helmet. He was built exactly the same, the serum from his world making him just as strong as Steve’s serum had made him here. But he carried a shield. A goddamned shield. If that wasn’t symbolic, Steve didn’t know what would be. This man was everything Steve wasn’t. A protector, a guardian, a symbol of defense and hope.

No wonder Bucky couldn’t let go.

“If you’re worried about them crossing over, then you’re acknowledging Bucky’s important,” Steve countered, a devilish smirk on his lips.

“I’m acknowledging nothing about Bucky Barnes. These people don’t know he’s here. As far as we know, they don’t even know of our existence. No one but their HYDRA knows and our scouts indicate Barnes’ information checks out. SHIELD abandoned their multiverse exploration after we killed their twelve agents. They didn’t just lock the files. Our spies indicate they destroyed them.”

“So as long as Barnes stays here, he’s not endangering us.”

“As long as _you_ stay here, he’s not endangering us. He’ll become our biggest threat if you tip off this _Captain America_ about his presence here.”

Steve shifted his weight, scoffing. As long as Captain America was alive, Bucky would always hold himself back from Steve. There’d always be that tiny bit of distance between them. Steve had a chance again to be with someone. A chance at redemption– for the wrongs he’d done by James. He needed Bucky. He couldn’t be alone again. This was his last shot. He couldn’t take any risks.

“My goal isn’t to inform Captain America, sir.” Steve picked up the file, flipping to another picture of Captain America without his helmet. He was blonder, but his eyes were just the same as Steve’s. They were so tired and full of sadness. A man who’d seen too much war. It was astounding that he still seemed so righteous, according to Bucky, when he’d never lived a day without a war. How had he become something so different from Steve? Steve, forced to display aggression, anger and hatred. It wasn’t fair that this man got to be a beacon for something else. He got to play angel while Steve had to be the demon. “My goal is to kill him.”

Fury sat back, taking in a deep breath. He looked to the picture, pointing to the shield. Steve cocked a brow.

“You kill him, and Barnes will hate you,” Fury explained. “And that shield is made from the same element your sword is. He’ll be a tough match.”

“Bucky won’t find out I did it,” Steve said. “He doesn’t even know we have access to his world.”

Fury steepled his fingers against his lips, staring up at Steve. “You fail, and you bring a war upon our people.”

“With all due respect, sir, but when have I ever failed?”

* * *

Steve moved with more purpose down the hall to his room with Bucky. He happily chomped away on some nuts, enjoying the salty flavor. It’d been a while since he had nuts, but one of the scouting missions had come back with bags full of them. They’d wiped out an entire village for them, but food was food and only the strong survived.

Steve opened the door to find Rumlow and Bucky on the bed, laughing about something. He glared at Rumlow, jealousy swirling around his spine that made his heart hot.

Rumlow stood up immediately, snapping to attention. “Captain.”

“Get out,” Steve hissed, watching Rumlow move frantically from the room.

“I was just tellin’ him a joke,” Bucky explained, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Steve’s resolve melted away. He moved over to Bucky, like a magnet to its partner. He couldn’t stand being in a room with Bucky without touching him. It was like Steve went through his existence now with barbed wire wrapped around his limbs. He was only free of it when Bucky touched him. He sat on the bed, offering the gentlest smile he could.

“I’m goin’ on a mission soon,” he explained. “I dunno fer how long but I just want to spend as much time with you as possible before I go.”

“I could come with you,” Bucky said, grabbing Steve’s hand and lacing their fingers together.

Steve huffed out a laugh through his nose, staring down at their fingers. His wedding band gleamed from the dim light in the room, a constant reminder that Steve had failed the man he’d once loved. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“S’okay.” Steve kissed Bucky’s temple, feeling a shiver run up his spine. “I don’t want you part of a war that ain’t yours.”

“I appreciate that. But the offer stands.” Bucky leaned his head against Steve’s shoulder. His warmth was like a blanket on a snowy night. It was like the feeling of coming home. Steve could feel the tension leaving his shoulders. His heart swelled and all he wanted to do was press thousands of kisses against this man’s face.

He couldn’t let Bucky leave him. It would take every meaning from Steve’s life until he was left feeling small and weak again. He’d fade away into a shell of a man and when the time came for someone to challenge him? He’d die. Everything he’d done in his life would become a waste. A life that amounted to nothing. Steve’s biggest fear was dying for absolutely nothing. His birth had no purpose, his sickly body was used making no friends, no dent in the world. He’d spent years just hiding away in his apartment, playing the piano and writing _songs_ of all things. His parents had hated him. He’d had no friends. Even his boss at the grocery had just tolerated him. The serum had given him a chance to _do_ something. If that was all taken away? His whole life would become pointless.

“Steve,” Bucky whispered. “You’re shaking.”

Steve gulped, looking down at his trembling fingers. He wrapped them around Bucky’s hands, sighing. “M’sorry.”

They folded into each other, Steve’s arms wrapped snugly around Bucky. He couldn’t let this man slip through his fingers. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t think about James; the final act that had nailed Steve to his eternal damnation. He’d killed the love of his life. But James had _challenged_ him! He’d come at him with a knife and a sneer. It was kill or be killed. And Steve was _so_ scared of a meaningless death.

“I love you,” Steve professed softly. “I know– I know it’s overwhelming. I know you don’t like it here. But I love you. I– Shit, Bucky. I can’t give up on this.”

Bucky tensed briefly, his eyes strained. His perfect lips dropped open and all Steve wanted to do was press his own against them and pull out those little whimpers that Bucky had made last time they kissed.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care about you,” Bucky spoke. “I do care. A lot. And we don’t gotta stop any time soon. Just– one day. One day it’s gotta end.”

“When we find a way to get you back over?” Steve asked, dropping his head against Bucky’s shoulder.

“Yeah. I just keep thinkin’ about Steve lookin’ for me. It’s– fuck. He risked his life in Nazi Germany for me when there was a high chance I was dead. I don’t deserve ‘im. But I can’t.” He stopped, taking a shaky break. “I can’t just let him suffer like that.”

Steve felt his heart cracking, threatening to shatter into a billion tiny pieces. All his life, all his godforsaken life, he’d been fighting. He’d been fighting for the right to live, to be healthy, to be noticed. Fighting for the right to be a soldier, to be strong. To be loved. Even now he was fighting for Bucky’s very soul. Fighting to be given a chance.

“He don’t get you like I do,” Steve mumbled. “He s’not all muddled up like us.”

Bucky nodded, swallowing thickly.

Steve pulled Bucky into his lap, a twitch of a smile lifting his lips for a mere fraction of a second. Bucky came to him so easily. Steve wrapped his limbs around Bucky, wishing that their hearts could just twist around each other and beat life into themselves. He needed this man. Killing Captain America was the only way to keep him. But Steve wasn’t prepared for the cold that cupped his heart. He’d hurt Bucky in an irreversible way.

Bucky would blame himself for Captain America’s death. He’d feel the guilt that Steve carried and Steve knew it would _never_ go away. It didn’t matter how many years had passed. It didn’t matter that they had each other. Steve carried guilt for James. Bucky would carry it for Captain America. Steve was simultaneously dooming and freeing this man all at once.

Steve looked at Bucky, trying his best to offer a smile, but it was strained.

_‘I’m so sorry I’ve lied to you. I am the monster you think I am.’_

Bucky tried to muster one back. They were stroking each other’s faces, Bucky’s hands curling into Steve’s beard.

Steve craved this contact; the reminder that this man was _alive_ and here. That Steve wasn’t alone anymore. God, he couldn’t be alone anymore.

“I love you,” Steve said again. “I’ll do everything to make you happy. I swear, Bucky. I’ll leave BLADE. I’ll build us a house somewhere. Anything you want.”

Bucky closed his eyes, shedding tears Steve so rarely actually got to see. Bucky teared up a lot, but he usually never let himself cry.

“That’s the one thing I’ve wanted all my life with Steve,” Bucky explained, his voice hoarse. “I tried so hard to get him to just– walk away. I know I’d have died without him. But– but even after. After he found me again. He just wouldn’t stop. All I wanted was for us to just quietly go away together.”

Steve cupped Bucky’s face, stroking his thumbs over his cheekbones. “I’ll walk away, Bucky. I swear I’ll walk away.”

“But will they try to kill you?” Bucky asked, cupping his hands over Steve’s.

“I won’t tell them. I’ll just leave.”

No one walked away from BLADE. Once you enlisted, you were with them for life. The brands on their shoulders weren’t just there for identification. They also served as a visual mark for hunters if someone fled. But Steve was willing to risk being a wanted man for Bucky. If that was the one thing Bucky wanted, the _one_ thing that could get Bucky to stay? Steve would do it. He’d gladly live a life of a man with a target on his back if it meant getting to keep Bucky. Maybe he could even let Captain America live… It wasn’t his fault Bucky was so in love with _him_.

“I can’t ask that of you,” Bucky finally answered.

“Bucky.” Steve tucked his index finger under Bucky’s chin, forcing the man to look at him. “If that’s what it takes, then I’ll do it. I swear to God.”

Bucky shrugged, looking away again. He bit his perfectly pouted lips, his brow creasing. God, did he have any idea how beautiful he was? Every line etched into his face, every edge or curve that composed those eyes– that jaw. It was sculpted by God. Bucky Barnes would be the one soul to go to heaven in this universe.

“I think I love you too,” Bucky whispered. “Just...just give me time.”

Steve kissed every knuckle of Bucky’s hands. A tiny glimmer of hope bubbled up in his chest. It warmed his toes, making him feel like he needed to run to the edges of the earth. He continued kissing Bucky’s hands till he was at the wrists. He turned those hands over, kissing the pulse points.

Bucky just watched, his face frozen in awe, his lips parted, eyes barely blinking.

Steve stopped, looking up sheepishly, a hopeful smile curling his lips.

“You really are the same person,” Bucky admitted. “Just shaped by different worlds.”

Steve cocked a brow, kissing Bucky’s thumb.

“You put your entire being into everything you do. That’s such a Steve Rogers thing.”

“Can I finally kiss your lips again?”

Bucky nodded, already pulling Steve down upon him.

Steve straddled Bucky, pinning him to the bed. He let his tongue lap into Bucky’s mouth. They rocked into each other, hips rolling like lazy ocean waves. Their breathing was sharp when their noses brushed and pressed against each other.

Bucky’s hands slipped up into Steve’s hair, messing it up.

Steve’s hands slipped under Bucky’s shirt, trailing along the curves and dips of his abs. Steve wanted to memorize those muscles– paint them out like a map that he’d keep close to his heart. He let the pads of his fingers swirl around Bucky’s navel, earning tiny giggles from Bucky.

Bucky’s hands dropped around Steve’s neck, his metal one cold. It sent shivers up and down Steve’s spine.

Their kiss became rougher, grunts and little yelps echoing into the calm silence around them. Steve snapped his hips down roughly, pressing along Bucky’s hard cock. Their teeth grazing into each other’s tongues painfully. Steve wanted more of it.

Bucky pushed Steve up, gasping. “W-wait!”

Steve stopped, frozen atop a man he never thought he’d see again.

_‘Wait! Are you sure?’_

_‘It’s okay, I love you.’_

_‘I– it's not that...'_

_‘James, you know I’d never hurt you.’_

Steve tore himself from Bucky, moving to the bathroom. He slammed the door shut and collapsed onto the ground, memories flooding his brain and searing each and every little detail to the backs of his eyes.

James, slightly sunburned from their travels around South America. James, offering up the first banana Steve’d had since he was a child. James, getting between him and Tony before it came to physical blows.

_‘I’d never hurt you.’_

Steve sobbed into his hands, ignoring Bucky’s soft knocking on the door. He crawled over into the shower stall and slammed the door shut, but the force behind it shattered the glass and it all came spilling down around him.

Bucky burst open the door, falling to his knees. “Steve!”

Steve hid his face behind his hands.

“You’re bleeding.”

“I don’t care,” Steve responded. “Doesn’t hurt.”

Lies. It hurt like hell. The tiniest bit of pain was amplified tenfold because of the serum. Pleasure, pain, sadness, happiness, jealousy. It was all amplified. Steve would wear those silent scars on his bones, even if the world couldn’t see them.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky pressed on, picking up some of the larger shards with his metal hand. He carefully set them next to the toilet. “I just didn’t– I’m just not ready for that.”

“You think I wigged out because you don’t wanna fuck yet?”

Bucky’s eyes widened.

“I don’t care about that. I mean, yeah, that’d be nice but that’s– Sometimes I look at you and I see him. I know that probably doesn’t make sense ‘cause, you _are_ him. But you’re not. He wasn’t as strong as you. James was a good man, Bucky. And I killed him.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” Bucky sympathized, picking glass out of Steve’s hair.

“I wonder if I did. If instead of killin’ him, we could’ve just– talked. Told the people around us it wasn’t a challenge. Just a– a lover’s spat or somethin’.”

Bucky remained silent.

“It ain’t fair to you. I get so pissed when you talk about your Steve, but here I am babbling on about James.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You should,” Steve answered, a bitter chuckle behind his words. “You should get angry at me.”

“We love who we love. We mourn who we mourn. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“It’s weak.”

“It’s _human_ ,” Bucky countered pointedly. He pulled at Steve’s arm. “I need to get the glass outta your arm.”

“Go for it,” Steve huffed out. He looked away, wincing as he felt Bucky’s metal fingers pulling out the shards that were stuck in Steve’s skin.

Everything Steve was, was a lie. Bucky was a goodness, a light in a world so shrouded by darkness. And Steve would poison that light with his venom. He’d inflict a permanent blight on Bucky’s soul. He’d take away the one thing that Bucky held to be purer than himself. His first and true love.

Steve closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the cool tile. Bucky shifted to the other arm, digging out the glass there. Steve watched the blood trickle from the cuts, slow and warm against his cold skin. He pictured himself above Captain America, watching the same arms pour the same blood. He felt his stomach tie itself into a tight knot, and he groaned.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said. “I’m almost done.”

“S’not you.” Steve looked up, offering a shy smile.

Bucky smiled back, relief flooding his features. “We’re not good at this game, are we?”

Steve flicked his brows up quickly. “No kiddin’.”

“Maybe we should, I dunno. Go somewhere? Somewhere you’ve never been with James.”

Steve nodded, licking his lips. It wasn’t a bad idea. It’d give him time to really decide if he’d actually go to kill Captain America or not. If Bucky changed his mind about needing to eventually go back, Steve wouldn’t have a reason to hurt the other Steve Rogers. It wasn’t like Steve _wanted_ to kill this man. He felt he _had_ to. It was the only way to ensure Bucky would stay and love him. That’s all he wanted.

“So we’ll go somewhere?” Bucky asked, a tiny smile on his face. “It’d be nice to get off this base. I’d love to see the sun.”

“Yeah, Buck,” Steve agreed with a smile. “We’ll go somewhere.”

* * *

Fury hadn’t been happy, but after a small argument, which had left Steve with a gash on his cheek, he was finally able to take Bucky off-base in one of the fighter jets and they got to make their way to Sao Tomé.

Sao Tomé was off the coast of Africa, a nation now considered to be the strongest and most stable of the remaining countries. It’d become united after the destruction of the North American nations, all the countries combining into one. It’d flourished where the rest of the world had declined. Many wars were fought over African resources, food and people, but the Africans were some of the richest people left and before BLADE was formed, they’d had Howard Stark and Obadiah Stane. BLADE was on good terms with the African nation. They traded food for weapons and many Africans volunteered for BLADE. Fury always lived by the motto of keeping his enemies closer, and thus Africa was always served before any other country or private military organization.

Sao Tomé looked nothing like the cold and barren wastelands of Russia, most of the Scandinavian Nation and the Greek Alliance, and _certainly_ not like the uninhabited North Americas. It was vivid green and blue, warm and fruit grew on trees and animals lazed in the sun.

Steve inhaled deeply, smelling the ripe fruit in the air. He followed Bucky off the jet. They needed to haul their equipment into the little hut at the coast.

Bucky looked back, offering a bright smile as he shrugged his knapsack better onto his back.

Steve smiled back.

It was easy to pretend that nothing bad had ever happened here. The world fought for dominance, people slaughtering people, dogs eating dogs and yet here was Sao Tomé– an island that showed no signs of the cruelty it existed alongside. Steve envied the people here.

They walked up to the shack, compliments of Tony Stark. He still regularly maintained contact with the people of the African Nation. Thankfully, they owed Tony many favors.

Steve opened the lockless door and allowed Bucky in first. When he entered, he looked around the little shack. It was one room with no bathroom. There was no electric. The kitchen contained an icebox with one big piece of dry ice, a surface to prepare food on and a sink that had a jug of water beneath it that could be pumped for clean water.

Steve loved it.

The living space had a large bed in the middle of the room. The back wall went up halfway with two columns to support the roofing, but other than that, it was open to the breeze that easily filtered into the shack. There was a table for two in one of the corners and that was it.

“Real five-star place, Steve,” Bucky teased, kissing Steve’s shoulder. “I like it.”

“Good,” Steve answered. “Because I’d shove you out into the ocean otherwise.”

Bucky laughed, rolling his eyes. “So what do we do now?”

“Look for food,” Steve answered. “I saw a starfruit tree near the jet.”

“So, we don’t go to one of the markets?” Bucky cocked an eyebrow.

“If we hunt– it’s free.”

Bucky laughed.

“What, you think I’m kiddin’? BLADE doesn’t pay anythin’. It supplies all we need.”

“Really? You don’t get a salary or anything?”

“Nope,” Steve answered as he put the knapsacks on the bed. “Money isn’t really all that important when you’re tryin’ to survive.”

“But Stark’s got money. BLADE pays him,” Bucky argued, though he sounded more confused than assertive.

Steve lay on the bed, staring up at the shack’s wooden beams above. “Yup, he can _afford_ money.”

“You have to afford money to be able to have money? Jesus.” Bucky joined Steve on the bed, pressing his head against Steve’s. “This world is…”

“Fucked up?” Steve offered. “We’re aware.”

“Sad,” Bucky said. “Not the lack of money thing, but just– you’re all alone. You’re fighting each other. But I’m not really sure if that means my world is any better.”

Steve raised a brow.

“Religion segregates people. I couldn’t kiss you in public. Not every country even allows same sex marriage. Women ain’t equal, even though they should be. Shitload of problems.”

“It’s kind of– seriously nice to hear that you don’t think your world is any better than ours,” Steve detailed. “I mean, ‘cause that means you don’t think less of me.”

Bucky rolled over, pulling Steve’s head into his chest. “I don’t think less of you.”

Steve closed his eyes, listening to Bucky’s heartbeat and the gentle lapping of the waves out the back of the little shack. The breeze tickled at the back of Steve’s neck. He snuggled in closer to Bucky, wrapping an arm around Bucky’s torso, breathing in his almond scent.

“We should get goin’ before dark,” Steve said. “Have you ever hunted before?”

Bucky shook his head.

Steve opened up one of the bags he’d brought in. Inside lay a crossbow and neatly tucked around the edges was another bow.

“No guns?” Bucky asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Nah,” Steve answered. “We need to be quiet. Monkeys can smell gunpowder, I swear.”

“Wait!” Bucky blurted. “We’re huntin’ monkeys?!”

Steve laughed, flicking Bucky’s nose as he loaded up a quiver. “Not much wildlife on this island.”

“But– monkeys.”

Steve stood up, offering out the crossbow to Bucky. “Well, pigs went extinct, and chickens are domestic and cost money. I can’t shoot a bat worth shit and they don’t have much meat, so monkeys.”

“Monkeys,” Bucky repeated, taking the crossbow. “Okay.”

Steve pressed a kiss to Bucky’s jaw, his whole body tingling warmly. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

“Me too.”

* * *

They’d managed to get one monkey. Steve had gotten his on the first kill but Bucky had eventually backed out saying he couldn’t do it. If it had been anyone else but Bucky, Steve would’ve found a way to kill off the person as a way to show he was still a force to be reckoned with. But it had been Bucky, and his soft spot for innocence was endearing.

Bucky started up a fire on the sandy beach while Steve skinned the monkey on the outskirts of the jungle. Steve was honestly impressed at how fast Bucky built the fire and the little apparatus to roast the monkey on. He hadn’t meant to assume the contrary, but it was still nice to see Bucky was skilled in survival. He’d need to be in this world. Steve could only protect him from so much, though he wasn’t really sure how much protecting he needed to do. Bucky _had_ been an assassin in his world.

Steve came back with the skinned monkey, its pelt draped over Steve’s shoulder so he could clean it and use it as trade tomorrow. He wouldn’t make Bucky go hunting again.

Steve sat down, his fingers stained with blood and his face still smeared with camo paint. He jabbed the monkey onto the rotisserie before sitting back.

“We’re a mess,” Bucky laughed, looking up at the bright sun above.

“That’s what the ocean’s for,” Steve replied, reaching for Bucky’s hand.

Bucky looked to the blood and then up to Steve’s face.

“It’s just a monkey.”

“I’m not bothered by that. I’m just wondering how clean we’ll get in saltwater.”

Steve shrugged, pulling Bucky up and bringing him along to the waves. He let go, smirking as he shrugged out of his clothes, standing naked before Bucky. He’d never done that before. Hell, he’d only seen Bucky with his shirt off a few times.

Bucky did his best not to look down, but eventually curiosity kicked in and his face went red.

Steve laughed, turning and running into the waves. He dived in, feeling the force of the current pull at his body. The water was crystal clear. Steve saw the little fish swimming along with the waves, the sea shells beneath him. He turned around, jerking his head for Bucky to get in.

Bucky stripped out of his clothes, pausing for a moment at his briefs before shucking them off. Steve ran his tongue along his lips, watching Bucky move slowly out into the water. Bucky’s body was all muscle. His legs long, shoulders broad. His cock, even soft, was still something Steve could see himself scooping into his mouth.

Steve let the waves push him toward Bucky before digging his feet into the sand and pulling Bucky down into the ocean waves with him.

Bucky yelped in surprise, following up with a laugh. They swam out a little further together where the waves weren’t so intense.

Bucky’s eyes were above the water’s surface as he waded in the ocean. He was like a merman, eyes drinking up the reflection of the blue waters. Something sinister was in those big eyes though, like he was plotting something.

Steve cocked a brow at him, unable to hold back the smile. This was everything he’d ever wanted. If only he could disappear from BLADE forever. They could find an island to call home and just live out their lives. Steve didn’t need anyone but Bucky.

Suddenly, Bucky squirted water from his mouth at Steve, laughing as Steve groaned, the salt getting into his eyes.

“Okay wise guy!” Steve growled affectionately. “You’re dead!” He swam after Bucky, wrapping his legs around the man and dunking him, both of them laughing.

Bucky yanked Steve under the water with his metal hand, moving atop him to keep him down. His lips found Steve’s, slightly chapped from the saltwater but still perfect.

Steve opened his mouth, letting the sting of the ocean water come into his mouth as his lips locked with Bucky’s. They pushed up, going above the water, Bucky’s legs wrapping around Steve like he’d done in the shark tanks. His cock brushed against Steve’s torso and Bucky gasped sharply.

“I love you,” Steve whispered against Bucky’s lips.

Bucky hummed, kissing up Steve’s jaw. Steve only let a moment of disappointment pull at his heart. It wasn’t right of him to think Bucky would love him as quickly as he fell for Bucky. They would get there, Steve just had to be patient. Even if he didn’t want to be.

Steve’s feet barely touched the ocean floor when the waves went by, bobbing their bodies up and down. He wrapped his arms around Bucky, letting the waves push them back toward the shore. They pressed lazy kisses to each other’s faces, mouths, necks…

Steve pushed his feet into the sand, trying his best to lock himself in place once he could stand with ease, the waves still gently rolling by them. He held Bucky to him, kissing his shoulder, tracing his tongue along Bucky’s clavicle.

Bucky gasped again, rolling his hips to rub his cock against Steve’s abs.

Steve groaned, kissing Bucky harder, digging his nails into the back of Bucky’s neck.

Bucky moaned, his metal hand slipping down Steve’s back roughly. The saltwater stung at the agitated lines.  

“It could…” Steve whispered between their kisses. “…always be like this.”

Bucky pulled back, removing his legs from around Steve to stand on his own. He pulled Steve to him, lifting Steve up with his metal arm to get Steve to straddle his torso.

Steve laughed, but he hooked his ankles behind Bucky. “Show-off.”

“You started it with your sappy shit,” Bucky teased, nipping at Steve’s bottom lip.

“I just want you to stay,” Steve pressed on. “Is that really so wrong of me?”

Bucky’s eyes saddened, his pupils constricting. The water was reflected in his eyes, showing off the blues and diminishing the usual grays. Bucky bounced up with one of the waves before standing again among the water. Steve shivered at the way the waves pushed his body closer to Bucky’s.

“No,” Bucky admitted distantly. “I wish I could explain everything to you.”

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck, dropping his head on the man’s shoulder. “So explain.”

Bucky heaved a deep sigh. He fell back against the waves that rolled by before steadying himself again, Steve hissing when his cock rubbed up Bucky’s torso as the wave pushed against them.

“That tickles,” Bucky laughed.

“You’re a tease,” Steve said, nipping at Bucky’s ear.

Bucky hummed, leaning into Steve’s teeth.

Bucky had an uncanny way of making Steve feel fragile. James had never been able to do that. James had never had the balls to sweep Steve off his feet like this either. There had always been a quiet definition of superior and subordinate. But Bucky didn’t walk the same lines James had. He didn’t even come from the same culture. He was braver, kinder and didn’t think the way James or Steve did. So Steve indulged in the rare feeling of feeling small again. He’d never do this in front of people, but just Bucky? Yeah, as long as it was just Bucky.

“I wanna stay,” Bucky spoke sadly, looking toward the crystal blue waters. “But it’s complicated.”

Steve just rested his head on Bucky’s metal shoulder.

“I keep thinkin’ about him looking for me. He’s never gonna give up. I thought– maybe he’d think I was dead. But that just made me realize how piss poor I am at being a person.”

Steve just gave him a little squeeze around the shoulders.

“It’s not fair to willingly let someone that good suffer so much. It’s either I tell ‘im and come here again, or I go back and either way– I don’t think I could ever leave once I saw him again. Even if what you give me is everything I’ve ever wanted outta him.”

“I’ll never be him,” Steve concluded, feeling a wave tickle at his neck. He sighed heavily, pulling back, looking at Bucky. His arms were still wrapped around the man’s neck. “Is that it? You like ‘im better because– he’s better?”

“No!” Bucky exclaimed, his face cringing in pain. “God, no Steve. I– You’re both the same person. Just different in how you reacted to your worlds.”

“But he’s still better,” Steve pressed, his heart feeling like it was being smashed in a blender. He wanted to cry, but he’d cried _so many times_ in front of Bucky. For once, he just wanted to look at the man and put on a brave face.

“I’ve got so much history with him,” Bucky explained. “I watched that kid grow up.”

Steve nodded, pushing off Bucky and going under the water. It was cowardly to run away, but he was angry. No matter what he did, no matter how much he offered, he’d never be Steve ‘Captain fucking America’ Rogers. He’d just be the ‘other’ one. The inferior. The backup.

 _The spare_.

Steve swam to shore, getting out and walking into the hut. He was sopping wet, so he went over to the knapsacks and pulled out two towels. He wrapped one around himself before going back out and laying the other one near the fire.

He plopped down, staring at the flames as he turned the rotisserie.

This made up his mind. It was clear as day he’d always be second rate if Captain America was still flouncing around.

He had to kill him. He had to kill Captain America.

* * *

Bucky crawled into bed, warm and alive next to Steve. He dropped his head near Steve’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but the moonlight was bright enough to paint them in silvers and blues. Bucky would know Steve’s eyes were open.

They’d eaten the monkey in silence. Steve had gone off to find some fruit. He’d dumped some starfruit and mangos by Bucky’s feet and had then gone into the shack. Bucky hadn’t come in till just now.

They hadn’t spoken since being out in the water together.

“I wanna be with you,” Bucky whispered. “I just have some shit I’ve gotta work out in my head.”

Steve closed his eyes. It was all he wanted to hear.

Bucky turned over, facing away from Steve.

Steve sighed, staring up at the support beams. He bit his lip, biting down so hard he tasted blood. The sting in his lips seared all the way into his heart.

“Bucky?”

“Hm?”

“If I could give you anything, what would you want?”

Bucky was silent for an impossibly long time. He was so still it was like he’d died, but Steve remained patient.

“Honestly?”

“Yes,” Steve prodded. “Honestly.”

“I’d want– I’d want you to get me back home.”

Steve sucked in a sharp breath, feeling the tears slip from his eyes.

“So I could talk to Steve about you. Figure this out.”

Steve turned toward Bucky. “Wait, what?”

Bucky rolled back over, reaching out his flesh hand to cup Steve’s face.

“Maybe if I told him, and he just knew where I was? Maybe I could keep you both.”

“You think he’d let you stay?” Steve asked, sounding far too young for his comfort.

“Dunno,” Bucky answered. “But it’s the right thing to do.”

“And if he wasn’t around anymore? With inter-dimensional time differences or something. If that world’s time changed too quickly compared to ours and he’s got a family or he’s even dead?”

Bucky pressed himself against Steve, kissing his beard. “Then I guess I wouldn’t have to figure this all out.” The way he’s said it though. It was like the life was slowly leaving Bucky’s body. Giving up on Captain America was akin to Bucky drawing a knife over his throat.

Steve smiled sadly, wrapping his arms around Bucky. Bucky nestled into his chest, sighing.

Steve couldn’t risk Bucky ever going back. Fury wouldn’t let him. He’d made that clear when Steve had asked for permission to cross over. He continued to stare up at the beams, swallowing roughly. He had to kill Captain America before Bucky could press the issue about crossing over. It was the only way to keep him _and_ protect this world.

* * *

After they’d returned to BLADE’s base, Steve went to work on his mission right away. BLADE kept their inter-dimensional machinery in an undisclosed bunker under old Moscow. There were enough soldiers here to constitute their own army, but they were all BLADE. Fury didn’t fuck around about other-worlders.

“You ready?” a BLADE soldier asked as Steve slipped another clip into his tack belt.

“Yup,” Steve lilted, walking over to the tower that’d basically zap him into its brother on the other side. That’s the biggest thing that Steve didn’t understand. Why were the machines on both ends linked? And how did frying one not fry the other? He hadn’t cared before. Steve hadn’t been interested in inter-dimensional observation until Bucky had crossed over. All he knew was that their machinery was more advanced than the other-worlders’ and when he would travel back to his world, he’d fry out the machines on the other side. Fury was nothing if not obsessive about other-worlders and he always kept ahead of them technologically, but that still didn’t explain why one side stayed functional while the other didn’t. Part of Steve wanted to understand, but most of him didn’t. Prying secrets out of Fury was like taking the loose nails and hammering out your own coffin.

As far as Steve understood, Fury had found ways to secure their inter-dimensional machinery with Tony’s help and the other-worlders hadn’t done much to theirs since before World War II.

Steve listened to the machines start humming; large white towers that sizzled electricity all around his body and made his mouth taste sweet. He’d never done this before, and he couldn’t exactly say he really ever wanted to do it again.  

“You’ll be dropped off in Mlyn. You’ve got everything you need to travel there, right Captain?” the soldier asked again. His hand hovered over the button that Steve assumed would send him over.

“Yup,” Steve replied again. He wasn’t the most talkative when he had a job to do. He swished his tongue around, still tasting that electric-sweet flavor. He just wanted this over with.

“In three...two...one…”

* * *

Steve sat at a café in New York City, swirling a straw in an iced chai latté (he’d never had one before and he was slightly bitter he’d never have one again). He was surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the city. He looked around at the colors, the trees, the _people_. They had hot dogs, baseball games, birds– life. They had everything that Steve’s world didn’t, and what did they do with it? They threw garbage on the ground, spat their gum on the sidewalks and polluted the air with grime and toxins. Steve couldn’t pretend his world would be better if they hadn’t fallen into disarray, but he was allowed to miss his country. To look around it now, to see it _thriving_? It hurt.

But this wasn’t _his_ country. These weren’t his people. This wasn’t his New York. His was dead, along with his parents, the nice lady in the apartment next to his, and the dog that Steve used to feed when he’d go to the grocery. They were all dead. His New York was all gone.

From his polite touristy questions while he sat at the cafe, he learned Captain America used to be around here but he found out that most of the superheroes had vacated the _Avengers_ Tower. They’d packed up and moved to Upstate New York.

He clicked his tongue, looking at a newspaper. God, they still made those?The country of Sokovia was suing the Avengers apparently. Steve was pretty glad he didn’t have to worry about governments suing him. BLADE was above governments. They were all too scared to piss off BLADE or any other private military operation.

“Excuse me?” a little voice asked.

Steve looked up, cocking a brow.

“Are you Captain America?” It was a little girl and a boy slightly older than her.

“Where’re your parents?” Steve asked.

“At the hot dog stand,” the boy responded meekly.

Steve leaned forward. “No, I ain’t Captain America. You shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

“Oh,” the girl said, her little shoulders slumping. “Thought maybe you was undercover!”

Steve laughed at the irony. “No ma’am. Just a guy readin’ a newspaper.”

“C’mon, Cindy,” the boy urged, pulling her hand.

The girl looked at Steve for another second before trailing off behind her brother.

Steve stood up, dropping the newspaper into the recycling bin and making his way into the crowd. Thank God for Tony Stark and his absolute curiosity about this world. Now that Bucky had talked to him about arc reactor power, he’d given Steve a few bars of gold to trade off in a pawn shop here for cash. Steve first needed to do some research on the arc reactor technology. After that? Steve had a plane to catch. But before that, he needed to shave…

* * *

Steve was absolutely astonished how a _shave_ could allow him to walk into a high security Avengers base, but here he was, walking down the halls in plain sight. People hardly stopped to look twice at him. One guy even told him he liked the hair dye. Steve had been taken off guard till he remembered his hair color wasn’t exactly the same as the man from this world.

He wandered the halls, peeking down corridors and looking into an elevator shaft.

“You lost, soldier?” a woman asked behind him.

Steve turned, but not before reaching up under his shirt to get a knife ready behind his back. Natasha Romanov.

She blinked, tilting her head to the side casually.

“Just checkin’ out the elevators,” Steve replied. “Just curious.”

“Uh-huh,” Natasha grunted, moving closer to him. “Our elevators too high-tech for you?”

Steve laughed, scratching the back of his head. “I was just curious.”

“What happened to your hair?” she asked, reaching up. Steve took a step back out of her reach. Her face remained impassive.

“I dyed it.”

“Why?”

“I-it’s for a mission.”

“What mission?”

“Romanov!”

She took a step back, slowly darting her tongue along her painted lips.

“I’m gonna go,” Steve said, hitting the elevator button.

“Sure,” she replied, her brow furrowed.

He got into the elevator, but she stuck her hand out to hold it.

“Hey Steve?”

He swallowed loudly. His heart was up in his throat as he watched her, his grip tightening on his knife. He had to look inconspicuous, and that had meant leaving his sword behind. He was armed with guns, knives and a few poison darts, but no sword.

“That was a fast mission,” Natasha led.

Steve didn’t respond. He just stared at her, wondering if he could take her out before she alerted anyone else.

“Yeah well, we’re the Avengers,” Steve answered, shrugging.

She let the elevator go, stepping back and letting the doors close.

Steve relaxed, looking down at his watch, designed by Tony Stark. He activated the little switch which jammed any security cameras around him. The elevator dinged and Steve got out, walking along the officer's housing corridors.

He walked along the unidentified doors, noticing one was open. He crept toward it, nearly jumping out of his skin when a man in a red suit tapped him on the shoulder. He had a weird helmet, tucked under an arm. It looked like a bug?

“Hey Cap, what’s up?”

Steve blinked, looking at the man and then back into the room, then at the man again.

The guy cocked a brow. “Uh, you okay there?”

“Y-yeah,” Steve said. “Tired. I uh, thought this was my room?”

The guy laughed, playfully punching Steve in the chest. “Yours is over there, brah. You losing your memory in your old age?”

“Uh, no?” Steve replied.

The guy laughed again. “Uh-huh. Lemme know when you start needin’ diapers. I’ll let Luis do all that.”

“Luis?”

The guy blinked, running his fingers through his short brown hair. “Uh, my best friend? He’s here all the time? Brown man who talks fast? You should lie down.”

Steve nodded, turning toward the door the man had pointed to.

“Hey, Cap?”

Steve turned around, his fingers itching to slit this guy’s throat.

“I’m sorry we still haven’t found Bucky.”

Steve licked his lips, a wave of pain washing over him. He winced and balled his fingers into fists.

“Don’t give up hope though. We’re all looking for him.”

Steve nodded, turning away from the man. He waited for the guy to go into his room again before Steve broke open Captain America’s door. The inside was nothing like what he’d thought it look like.

The walls were covered in artwork, some of Bucky, some of random landscapes or trees and flowers. The bed was a tiny cot and there were books spilled all over the floor. On the far side of the room was a map with countless little pegs and strings.

Steve stepped closer, realizing all the pins were places Captain America had either looked or planned to look for Bucky. HYDRA bases, AIM bases, military, governments, names of people, scribbled numbers and coordinates. Steve sighed, pressing his hand to his chest. Captain America was literally going to the ends of the earth to find Bucky. Steve looked down at his hands, clean now, but they’d be stained with Captain America’s blood later.

He clenched his teeth, shaking off his trepidation. This was the only way to keep Bucky, seal off their worlds, and protect his world from these other-worlders. Killing Captain America in this world– killing _himself_ , was the only way.

“I hear you’re lookin’ for me,” someone with an excruciatingly familiar voice said.

Steve turned, seeing Captain America but a few feet from him. Blond hair, sad blue eyes, broad shoulders. They were identical except their hair.

Steve took in a deep breath, reaching behind himself for one of the knives in his pocket.

Captain America leaned against the door, shaking his head. “Where’s Bucky?”

Steve cocked his head to the side. He wanted to charge, but he saw the shield.

“Romanov tipped you off?” Steve asked.

Captain America smirked. “I don’t usually call her Romanov unless we’re joking around.”

“She’s smart,” Steve lamented, leaning against the wall. “Who the hell’s Bucky?” He watched Captain America’s face. Watched the way it tensed. How the color left his cheeks. This was a man who loved Bucky Barnes– a man who _loved_ him. Steve knew with absolute certainty that this man would _never_ let Bucky come back to him if Steve let him come say goodbye. Because he loved Bucky the way Steve loved Bucky. It was written so clearly on his face. On _Steve’s_ face.

Captain America loved Bucky Barnes.

“You’re lying,” Cap snarled through gritted teeth. “Where is he?” He took a step forward, grabbing his shield and ramming it against Steve.

Steve gasped, feeling the air violently leaving his lungs. He pushed back, striking out a low kick to allow himself to drop back to the floor. He brought Captain America’s face down on his knee and then he ran. He knew Captain America would chase him. He just needed to make sure none of the other Avengers did.

He ran down the hall, staring at one of the floor length windows. He turned around, watching Captain America– shield and all– charge right at him.

Steve put his hands up, jumping through the window to shatter it. He fell several floors to the ground and groaned loudly as his body banged against the earth.

Cap was right behind him, leaping from the building and rolling a few times as he hit the ground.

Steve stood up, pulling out one of his knives. He leapt at Cap, bringing down the knife to the man’s head.

Cap blocked it with his shield, spinning to bash the shield into Steve’s head.

Steve ducked, rolling onto the ground and kicking out one of his legs to trip Cap.

Cap went falling, and Steve jumped atop him. He used both hands to try to drive the knife into the man’s face, but Cap grabbed at his arms, groaning as he tried to hold Steve off.

“Where…is…he?” Cap growled.

“Nowhere you’ll find him,” Steve hissed back. He groaned loudly, rolling off Cap to grab another knife and launching it at him.

Cap knocked it out of the air with his shield. He spun around once before throwing the shield at Steve.

Steve reached up, grabbing the shield, grunting when it pressed into his stomach.

Cap gritted his teeth, watching Steve put the shield on his arm.

“You really think a _shield_ is gonna save you?”

Cap shrugged. “Worked so far!” He ran at Steve, throwing punch after punch, bringing his leg up to kick at Steve’s chest.

Steve did his best to deflect, but the shield was too big and clunky. He gasped as Cap’s foot met his sternum and he was sent flying back into some of the trees around the base. He cracked his neck a few times, straightening out his shoulders as he launched the shield up into one of the trees and smiled when it sank into its bark.

“Use your hands,” Steve taunted, coming at Cap with a knife again. He tossed another throwing knife at Cap’s face, grinning when it sliced his cheek.

Cap spun around, grabbing the knife from the ground and launching it right back at Steve.

Steve ducked, looking up as the knife sunk into the tree behind him. He elected to let it go, and ran at Cap again, growling as he threw his punches, throwing his whole body into them. His future with Bucky was literally on the line and failure was _not_ an option. He’d lose Bucky and he’d lose the respect of his people. He’d be dead within a few days if he failed.

Failure was _not_ an option.

Cap’s punches were ruthless and wild. Like Steve, he threw himself into each one, groaning and grunting at each deflection and each landed punch. Cap yelped out when Steve flipped him over his body.

Steve grabbed Cap, bringing him down over his leg, listening to the loud _crunch_ as Cap’s spine bent inhumanly over Steve’s knee.

Cap gasped, rolling over onto the ground. He put his hands out when Steve drove the knife down again, this time going for his gut. Steve didn’t care if the guy bled out, as long as he fucking killed him; that was fine in Steve’s book.

“Who…are…you?” Cap gritted out between closed teeth.

“The only Steve Rogers Bucky’s ever gonna know again,” Steve growled as he sliced into Cap’s uniform. He smiled when he listened to the man groan. Blood started to seep out of the uniform.

Before Steve could press the knife in all the way, a powerful punch came from absolutely nowhere. Steve rolled on the ground, shaking his head briefly. He stood up, but he saw no one. Then he felt a kick to his ass and he was sent tumbling back to the ground again.

By the time Steve got back to his feet, Cap was back up and he had his damn shield.

“Oh fuck me,” Steve sighed out. He grabbed the flute for the poison darts and ran back as Cap charged at him.

Steve grabbed one of the tree branches, swinging up into the trees and moving from tree to tree. Cap was beneath him, throwing his shield and somehow finding a way for it to magically fucking bounce back to him.

Steve turned around, preparing to force the dart out of the flute when a throbbing pain bloomed beneath his jaw. He didn’t know where the flute went, nor what was fucking _hitting_ him. He fell from the trees, shouting in pain as he landed awkwardly on his wrist.

Cap was standing before him, reaching down to grab him. He slammed Steve into the tree, knocking the wind out of him.

“I’ll ask again. Where. Is. Bucky?” Cap demanded.

Steve spat blood at him. “I can do this all day.”

Cap faltered, dropping Steve in his moment of surprise.

Steve started running again. Whatever was hitting him couldn’t be seen and as long as it was out here, he had no chance at killing Cap. He threw a few throwing knives out in various directions as he continued to run. He needed a fucking escape route. It was a hell of a lot easier getting to the base than it was getting out.

Cap was still trailing after him, tossing his shield and having it bounce back whenever Steve would duck or move out of its way.

Steve cursed when he saw a jet up in the air. It was skinner than BLADE fighter jets and moved with precise accuracy.

“Stand down!” someone said from inside the jet. “Or I’ll shoot!”

“No don’t shoot!” Cap shouted behind Steve.

Steve smirked, running toward the jet. He watched the bullets burst from their barrels. The jet had to stay low to get a good shot, but Steve was _much_ faster. He leapt onto the jet, grabbing on as the thing started to move wildly in an attempt to knock him off. He pulled out another tool, designed to cut steel, smashing it down into the jet’s exterior to carve out a hole to drop down into. He kicked in the rest of the hole and dropped down into the jet.

“Barton?” Steve asked as he walked toward the cockpit. “Move now.”

“Steve? What the–”

Steve took out another dart and jabbed it into the guy’s neck.

Barton went down. The poison wasn’t strong enough to kill, but it was enough to knock a guy out. Steve sat at the controls, moving the jet higher into the air. He’d leave Barton and the jet once he was safely away.

He sighed, grinding his teeth together as he flew away from the Avengers base. He’d failed. He’d failed. He’d failed. He’d failed. Captain America was fucking _alive_ and he knew Steve had Bucky.

Steve shouted angrily, punching up into the air. He stomped his feet, cursing violently.

“Jesus, fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He stomped his feet again. “God _fucking_ damn it!”

He had to destroy the seam between the two worlds. It was the only way. Fury would be pissed, but maybe it’s what was best considering Fury also feared other-worlders. They only kept the seam open to observe technology and occasionally steal some food.

Steve dropped the jet and Barton off in Connecticut before hopping on a plane back to Russia. He needed to use the same machine Bucky had used to get here in the first place. It was going to be a goddamned long night.

* * *

Bucky stared up at the ceiling, listening to the creaks and moans of the underwater base. He used to hate the lonely sounds of this place at night, but now he’d come to find them comforting. Steve had been out on his mission for two weeks now and Bucky was going stir-crazy.

He’d spent a lot of time with Jack and Brock. Brock was acting under orders to keep an eye on Bucky and make sure no one tried to kill him (not that Bucky needed protecting, but he’d humor Steve). Jack and Brock were currently on the floor in Bucky and Steve’s room, quietly playing solitaire with each other. Bucky thought the point of the game was to play alone, but they kept taking turns, smiling at each other as they played the game.

Bucky rolled over, watching them for a few rounds before he said, “D’you know what mission Steve went on?”

“Classified,” Brock replied.

“No,” Jack answered. “We don’t.”

Bucky rolled back over, groaning. “I’m so bored I’m gonna eat my own toes.”

“Please don’t,” Jack stated flatly. “That’d be a mess.” He had a thick Russian accent. Bucky remembered the Rollins from his world. He didn’t have such an accent.

“Can we go train or somethin’?” Bucky complained. “I wanna hit something!”

Before either Brock or Jack could respond, Brock’s comms were crackling with someone’s voice.

_“Report to debriefing. Captain Rogers has returned.”_

Bucky clapped his hands once in the air before rolling over and jumping from the bed. He pulled open the drawers beneath the bed, pulling out something to wear that wasn’t just sweats.

“You stay here,” Jack commanded. It always sounded scarier when commands are said in Russian accents.

Bucky furrowed his brow, glaring up at the man. Sometimes he had to force himself to remember that this Jack had _never_ held Bucky against his will. He’d never hurt him and he’d never associated with HYDRA.

“But Steve’s back,” Bucky whispered.

“You’ll see ‘im soon,” Brock said, squeezing Bucky’s shoulder lightly. “We’ve gotta go debrief. Just wait here okay?”

“You know, I didn’t sign up to be put in a prison,” Bucky provoked, crossing his arms.

“You ain’t in a prison,” Brock replied. “But there’s a lot of people on this base that would jump at the opportunity to kill off Steve’s lover. We’re just protecting you.”

“I can handle myself. I’ve told you this. Over and over.”

“And we don’t doubt you,” Jack indulged. “But orders are orders.”

Bucky sank back onto the bed, sighing dejectedly. He wanted out of this room. He wanted out of this _base_. He missed the sun from when he’d gone to Sao Tomé. He missed Steve. Not just _his_ Steve– but the Steve from this world. He missed his easy laugh and those tiny kisses he was always peppering on Bucky’s jaw. He missed his warmth curled around Bucky in bed.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Bucky grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

Brock smiled and waved. Jack just blinked and followed behind Brock.

They were a cute pair, Bucky had to admit that– even if the Rumlow and Rollins from his world made him want to use a cheese grater on their skin. They were different people. Bucky respected that.

He waited for another hour before Steve finally came into the room. His shoulders were slumped and his beard looked like it had been shaven. It was scruffier and lighter along his jaw. He also had a fresh black eye.

“Steve!” Bucky gasped as he jumped from the bed over to the man. “Are you okay?!”

Steve grunted, letting Bucky give him a kiss before he pulled Bucky into a hug. He didn’t speak. He just wrapped his arms around Bucky and held him tightly.

Bucky ran his fingers through Steve’s hair, staring at the shadows in the room. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest as he tried to think of why Steve would have such a fresh bruise on his face. He sighed, just holding this man. He was so relieved to have Steve back in his arms. Bucky pushed his face into Steve’s neck, breathing him in.

“Bucky,” Steve whispered. He twisted his fingers into Bucky’s hair, holding him closer.

Bucky’s face was pushed into Steve’s throat, but he didn’t move. He listened to Steve’s ragged breathing. Felt the way his heart was beating erratically. Steve’s limbs were trembling.

“Bucky,” he repeated again.

Bucky just squeezed his arms around him.

Steve pulled back, stroking the backs of his fingers along Bucky’s jaw. He pressed into Bucky, slotting their lips together in a gentle kiss.

Bucky smiled into the kiss. He sucked Steve’s bottom lip into his mouth, getting ready to deepen the kiss when he felt himself being lifted. He yelped as his body was slammed back into the window, the cold nipping at his back.

“I can’t wait anymore,” Steve growled, kissing along Bucky’s jaw. “I can’t wait.” He kissed down Bucky’s neck, sucking and nibbling along the flesh.

Bucky moaned, rocking his hips into Steve and letting his head drop to give Steve easier access.

“I need you,” Steve whimpered. He brushed his nose over Bucky’s, sucking in a sharp breath. “Please, I need you.”

Bucky nodded silently, his mouth hanging open.

Steve growled, pushing his lips to Bucky’s again. The tenderness of the first kiss was replaced with a frantic urgency. Steve’s body was burning hot against Bucky’s, like every nerve was screeching out to Bucky.

Bucky tried to keep up with Steve’s kisses, but they were as brutal as Steve was. The rough stubble on Steve’s chin skidded across Bucky’s jaw. Saliva coated Bucky’s lips and chin. He growled, tugging Steve’s head back to break the kiss. He stared into Steve’s dark eyes– pupils blown wide. Staring at this man was like staring into the heart of a lion. Bucky gasped, his lips falling open.

“Put me down,” Bucky said softly.

Steve winced, but did as Bucky wanted.

The second Bucky’s feet hit the floor, he shoved Steve down onto the bed. He pinned the man down with his legs and dove back in to kiss him.

Their tongues sloshed into each other, sliding over lips, teeth and noses, bodies rocking and pressing into each other like their lives depended on it.

Bucky growled, low and guttural in his throat as he pinned Steve’s hands above his head.

Steve gasped, looking up. He started to tug his hands but Bucky’s metal one was stronger. He glared at Bucky’s triumphant smile, watching with black eyes as Bucky slid his flesh hand along his sternum and down to the hem of his shirt.

Bucky ripped the shirt off, smiling as Steve hissed from the fabric being pulled out roughly from under him. He claimed Steve’s neck, biting down and drawing blood.

“Oh _God_!” Steve gasped, rocking his hips up into Bucky. “More…”

Bucky lapped at the wound, practically purring. He kissed along Steve’s jaw, letting his teeth trace along the skin on occasion.

Steve just lay there, breathing heavily but always watching.

“Wanna make a mess of you,” Bucky taunted, pushing his hips into Steve’s.

Steve laughed, a rumble in his chest. He rolled atop Bucky, both of them grunting as Steve worked to pin Bucky’s squirming form down.

“No,” Steve breathed out huskily. “I’m gonna make a mess of _you._ ”

Bucky’s breath hitched, his body trembling from a carnal need he didn’t even know was there. He let his legs fall open to allow Steve to slot himself up against his ass. He could feel the man’s thick cock in his pants. Bucky whined, squirming.

“N-never done it like this,” Bucky admitted, panting.

Steve hummed, bringing his hand down to undo Bucky’s pants and yank them off. He sat back, undoing his belt and fly. _God_ , he was a work of art. His body was colored with faded bruises and healing wounds. He was just as wide as the other Steve, but there was steel behind that skin. He looked _denser_ than the other Steve. There was a commanding presence in this man that Bucky’s Steve just didn’t possess. He had his own, but it was kinder. The Steve of this world– he was like a ruthless god and if you didn’t pay tribute? He’d wipe out your entire village.

Steve wrapped Bucky’s legs around his torso, letting his groin push up against Bucky’s ass.

Bucky gasped again, squirming nervously. He pulled Steve’s face to his, slamming their lips together. Steve groaned into the kiss, rolling his hips back and forth, letting Bucky get a feel for just how _big_ this man was. Bucky tried to roll them back over, but Steve pinned down his shoulders, clicking his tongue.

“What’d I say, Bucky?” he asked, his voice heady.

“You’re gonna make a mess of me,” Bucky repeated, feeling his heart tremble in his chest.

“Then ya gotta submit to me for that,” Steve lilted, stroking Bucky’s face softly. “You want that, right? Me to take care of ya?”

Bucky swallowed roughly, pressing his ass into Steve’s cock. He moaned, clenching his legs tighter around Steve. “I’m scared.”

Steve clicked his tongue. He lifted up Bucky’s shirt, pressing kisses along his abs, swirling his tongue around his navel. Bucky arched off the bed, sucking in a sharp breath. He twisted his fingers into Steve’s hair, rocking his hips back and forth.

Steve ripped the rest of the shirt off, letting it fall uselessly around Bucky. He sucked at one of Bucky’s nipples loudly before biting down.

Bucky yelped out, his whole body tensing.

“Shh,” Steve cooed, thumbing over the abused nipple and kissing Bucky’s jaw. “That’s the worst pain you’re gonna feel tonight.”

Bucky laughed awkwardly, nodding. “What if I told you I liked a little pain?”

“I said I’d never hurt you,” Steve replied, his voice deep with absolute certainty.

Bucky nodded, adjusting his legs around Steve’s torso. “Okay.”

Steve kissed at Bucky’s jaw a few more times before nibbling his way down Bucky’s neck. He let his fingers play with Bucky’s nipples, swirling them around the flesh until they were swollen stiff.

He moved down Bucky’s body, taking all his heat with him.

Bucky shivered, letting his legs drop to the sides as Steve lapped at his navel. He let his eyes flutter shut. This didn’t make him any less of a man. Loving a man didn’t make him weak. Being the bottom to Steve? That only meant he trusted him. It had nothing to do with power, at least, not in Bucky’s mind. Though he was sure it did in Steve’s. Bucky trusted this man. He was ruthless, bloodthirsty and unrelenting, but Bucky trusted him. Because when he was with Bucky, he was kind, honest and open. Because everything Steve ever did was for James. Now everything this man did was for Bucky.

Bucky cried out when he felt Steve’s tongue dart over his cock, lapping at the underside. Bucky looked down, watching in amazement as Steve scooped his dick into his mouth and started sucking softly. Sharp little sounds echoed into the room and Bucky couldn’t help but press his hips up into Steve’s mouth.

“Oh…oh God,” Bucky panted. “Oh God…”

Steve hummed, letting his tongue swirl around Bucky’s girth a few times. He brought his lips back up to the tip, letting them circle around the head– all warm and wet.

Bucky couldn’t stop gasping as he struggled to breathe. Steve’s ministrations were gentle, but each one sent waves of pleasure from Bucky’s cock and into nerves in his body that he hadn’t even known existed. He rocked up, bumping his cock against Steve’s chin. _God_ the way the stubble moved against his cock felt so good.

Steve smiled up at him, letting his chin circle around on Bucky’s tip.

“Steve…Steve that feels good.”

Steve darted his tongue out like a snake, tracing it along Bucky’s tip before enveloping Bucky back into his mouth. He bobbed his head rhythmically, using his other hand to tickle at Bucky’s balls.

“Steve…Oh God, Steve…fuck…”

Steve let his teeth trail along Bucky’s cock, not enough to hurt, but enough to make Bucky go still. It was like a warning.

Bucky swallowed, trying desperately to coat his dry mouth. He looked down, waiting for Steve to move or do something.

Steve just held his cock in his mouth, his teeth dangerously close to clamping down. Bucky shivered, watching the animalistic prowess in those eyes.

“Wh–”

Steve bit down.

Bucky cried out, sitting up as he dug his fingers into Steve’s hair. “Y-you said!”

Steve licked at Bucky’s cock again before pulling up, laughing.

“You fucking jerk!” Bucky exclaimed, though a smile was spreading on his face.

“That hurt?” Steve asked.

“Fuck yeah it hurt!”

“But did you like it? You said you liked pain.”

Bucky paused, his mouth dropping open. He had liked it. It had sent sharp pain up into his body, wrapping around his muscles and clenching them up, but he’d liked it.

“Fuck yeah. Do it again,” Bucky demanded, pushing Steve’s head back down.

Steve laughed before taking Bucky back into his mouth. He bobbed up and down a few times, letting his tongue trail along the thickest veins in Bucky’s cock. He let his teeth graze along the length before coming to nip softly at Bucky’s tip.

That beautiful pain blossomed in Bucky’s body again. He found himself crying out, but not unhappily this time. His body stretched out on the bed, rocking up into Steve’s mouth.

Steve’s teeth traced along Bucky’s slit before nibbling softly again.

“Oh God, why does this feel so fuckin’ good,” Bucky asked blissfully. “Fuck…Steve…”

Steve sucked down Bucky’s cock. Bucky could feel the man’s muscles work around in the back of his throat as Steve fought against his gag reflex.

It was like the waves of the ocean, carrying Bucky up to highs and down to lows and he loved both extremes. He rocked his hips, pushing at the back of Steve’s head to fuck up into this man’s deliciously sinful mouth.

Steve gagged around Bucky, saliva pooling from his mouth along Bucky’s balls.

God he looked so beautiful with his jaw dropped so wide.  

“Oh fuck,” Bucky gasped. His spine tingled as Steve let him set the pace when the man allowed Bucky to continue thrusting into his mouth. “Fuck m’gonna come.”

Steve sucked harder, his tongue berating against the underside of Bucky’s tip.

Bucky threw his head back, snapping up his hips roughly. Steve’s throat muscles spasmed around his cock, pulling and tightening around him, creating so much wet heat that Bucky thought he’d pass out. He felt a pressure build in his loins that he hadn’t felt since before the war. Tears pushed from his eyes as he cried out, his body convulsing violently. He continued to snap his hips up into Steve’s mouth. He tried to watch. He tried to watch the saliva run down his cock, the way his balls clenched up or how Steve’s face was red from the abuse Bucky was giving him. But he couldn’t keep his damn eyes open.

He stopped once his orgasm subsided, letting himself sink down into the mattress.

Steve started to kiss Bucky’s cock, soft and worshiping. Bucky couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped his throat. Steve was an anomaly. A man so ruthless and yet so devoted. Bucky’s heart clenched at the confusion he felt. He wanted to stay, but he wanted to go. This man was giving him everything he had to give, but Bucky couldn’t just accept it. There was still something missing.

Steve grabbed Bucky’s ankles, pushing them above the man’s head before Bucky could even realize what was happening.

He tried to squirm away but Steve’s tongue was already on him. It slipped around Bucky’s rim, wet and hot.

“Oh _shit,_ Steve! Fuck…fuck! Goddamned your fuckin’ mouth is somethin’ else,” Bucky babbled as Steve’s tongue pushed inside him.

He felt Steve swirling inside him, getting him wet and ready for his cock.

Fuck, his cock…

“You p-promise not to hurt me, right?” Bucky said through clenched teeth. “Oh God…”

Steve hummed, his tongue swirling around Bucky’s rim and right up to his perineum. He looked at Bucky, a silent nod before he trailed his tongue back down to Bucky’s ass.

Bucky slammed his head back into the bed, groaning out. He wanted to shove his feet back down. He couldn’t get enough air like this, all doubled over with his ankles held above his head. He cried out when Steve’s tongue flicked along his rim, fast and unrelenting.

Steve pushed his face harder against Bucky’s ass, sucking loudly on Bucky’s rim.

Bucky had never touched another man’s ass before. He’d never even touched a woman’s– unless you counted the cheeks. He’d never felt a rim or tasted what it was like to slip your tongue between someone’s cheeks. He wanted to though. If Steve would ever let him…

Steve sat up, cracking his neck and letting Bucky’s legs fall back to the bed.

Bucky was struggling to catch his breath, panting heavily as he stared up at Steve.

“You okay?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded.

Steve pulled Bucky up, forcing him to roll over with his ass up in the air.

Bucky whimpered, steadying himself on his knees.

Steve’s hands circled over Bucky’s ass, massaging the quaking muscle. “S’okay. I swear you’re gonna be fine.”

Bucky nodded into the pillow, watching from the corner of his eye.

Steve pulled Bucky’s cheeks apart, lapping a thick stripe between them. He plunged his tongue in once more, pushing it against Bucky’s walls as hard as he could.

Bucky groaned, pushing his face into the pillow. It felt so damn good. Like warm wax slipping down his body. Like sun as he sat by a window. Like Steve Rogers worshiping his body… He didn’t mind that feeling one bit.

Steve pulled his cock from his pants, spitting into his hand and giving himself a few strokes.

Bucky held his breath, watching.

“Relax, Buck,” Steve said, placing one hand over the dimple in Bucky’s lower back. “Gotta relax.”

Bucky sucked in a deep breath, nodding.

Steve lined himself up, letting the tip of his cock circle along Bucky’s wet rim. “So I lied…”

Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut, feeling that smooth skin tickle at his own. He felt his body relaxing, melting into the bed.

“It’ll probably hurt a bit. That Okay?” Steve asked.

“Fuck yeah,” Bucky answered, his voice wrecked and trembling with anticipation.

Steve pushed in slow and Bucky’s whole world changed.

He felt himself clench around Steve, fighting the intrusion but it was like his muscles couldn’t make up their mind. They scampered to pull Steve inside, then clamped down and tried to push him away. It stung, but only briefly as his muscles settled around the intrusion.

Bucky groaned, low and throaty, his body fighting with itself as Steve slipped in slowly. He reached back, grabbing one of Steve’s hands. Steve laced their fingers together.

“You’re okay,” Steve reassured, stroking his other hand through Bucky’s hair.

Bucky pushed back, taking more of Steve into him and squeezed Steve’s fingers tightly.

Steve trembled behind him, letting his head roll back. “Oh God, Bucky. You’re so perfect.”

Bucky couldn’t wipe the smile off his face even if he wanted to.

Steve pulled Bucky up, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s shoulders and cupping one of his pecs. He kissed Bucky’s shoulder, over and over and over.

Bucky rocked back into Steve, feeling Steve’s cock slipping more and more inside of him as his body finally decided it was okay. This was Steve. It wasn’t _the_ Steve. But it was Steve all the same. And Bucky couldn’t help but feel proud that he was making Steve feel so good.

“You’re mine,” Steve whispered, licking at Bucky’s neck. “Mine. I swear to God I’ll love you forever.”

Bucky nodded, tears clouding his vision. He moved his hips, gentle and uncertain as he felt Steve’s cock move in and out of him.

Steve growled, nipping at Bucky’s neck, tugging at the skin.

Bucky hissed, reaching behind him and cupping the back of Steve’s head. He dug his fingers into Steve’s scalp and moaned when he heard the man practically purr.

Steve continued to leave bruising welts in his wake as he worked up Bucky’s neck to his ear. “You good?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” Bucky responded dreamily. “Feels real good.”

Steve slipped out of Bucky, turning him over and slamming right back in again.

Bucky yelped, feeling himself being lifted from the bed as Steve walked them over to the window. He pushed Bucky back against the cool surface, moving his hips roughly back and forth.

Bucky dropped his head back against the window, moaning approvingly as Steve drilled into him. He hooked his ankles behind Steve, trying to lift himself up to Steve’s unrelenting rhythm, but his limbs shook too much. His skin skidded uncomfortably against the window and he groaned with every thrust.

“God Buck,” Steve rasped. “So fuckin’ good. So, so _fuckin’_ good.”

Bucky purred, clawing down Bucky’s back as roughly as he could, feeling lines rise against Steve’s skin.

Steve growled into Bucky’s ear, nipping at the lobe. “You like this, huh?”

“Fuck me harder,” Bucky demanded, grabbing Steve’s ass and squeezing. “Wanna cry each time I sit after you’re done with me.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve challenged, snapping his hips up into Buck. “You like it rough, baby?”

Bucky nodded, biting Steve’s jaw rough enough to leave teeth marks.

Steve hissed, yanking back. He pulled Bucky off the window, using one arm to keep the man’s weight against him and using his other arm to shove the knives, guns and paperwork off the desk in a clatter. He dropped Bucky roughly against it, like a toy to be used.

Bucky reached up bracing himself on the desk as Steve started to move faster. His body burned around Steve’s cock– his muscles unused to such abuse. He liked it. He liked the searing pain that blossomed beneath his skin where Steve scratched at it. He liked the dull pain that reverberated through his core whenever Steve snapped his hips up into him. It was like a dangerous game. A lion and a lamb and Bucky had never felt so exhilarated to be someone else’s prey.

Steve’s muscles rippled in the light as he rocked back and forth into Bucky. His face was screwed up into a focused glare and he kept growling and grunting like the fucking wild animal he was.

God, Bucky loved that he was a wild animal.

Bucky dug his heels into Steve’s back, bowing his back. He grabbed Steve’s neck, scratching red little lines into the pink flesh. They were going to be black and blue come morning, but Bucky didn’t care. He’d wear these marks like badges of honor. He wanted _everyone_ to know.

“Oh God!” Steve exclaimed. “I’m gonna fucking _ruin_ you.”

“Do it,” Bucky encouraged, pulling Steve’s face to his for a forceful kiss before biting down on the man’s lip, earning a feral growl.

Steve wrapped his fingers around Bucky’s throat, squeezing lightly as he rocked back and forth. His dick throbbed inside Bucky, warming Bucky up to such impossible temperatures that he thought he might catch fire.

Bucky trembled, feeling his muscles fluttering and clamping around Steve’s thick cock. He pushed his heels into Steve’s back again, smiling as Steve snarled down at him. “Do it,” Bucky ordered. “Choke me.”

Steve yanked Bucky off the desk, pushing him onto the bed, pulling his legs wide and shoving back in again. He wrapped his fingers around Bucky’s throat again, digging his nails into the skin.

“ _Choke_ me,” Bucky growled impatiently, rocking his hips up to meet Steve’s.

Steve did as he was told. He squeezed his fingers into Bucky’s throat, not enough to block wind but enough that Bucky was gurgling out a moan, pushing his ass back on Steve’s dick as his own _throbbed_ between them.

Bucky reached up, grabbing Steve’s throat with his metal fingers.

Steve cocked a lopsided grin, clearly proud of himself. He snapped his hips up again and Bucky howled, doubling over.

Bucky gasped, grinding up against Steve’s cock for that feeling again. His vision blurred each time Steve rocked back up into him, and he reached up with his metal hand, swatting Steve’s hand away before curling it around Steve’s throat.

He felt tears streaming down his face as he continued to force Steve’s body to push into him like that, again and again. Each time Steve pressed into him, his whole body quaked with a boiling pressure. He wanted to fucking scream from how overbearing it felt. He was too close to the sun, but he was too cold, but he was drowning...but he was flying.

“B-Bucky,” Steve hissed. “C-can’t…”

Bucky pulled his metal hand away from Steve’s throat, his eyes going wide. “Fuck, m’sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Steve breathed out, reaching up to soothe his bruising neck. “I think I know how to punish you.” Steve pulled out, jerking Bucky up and shoving him onto the floor unceremoniously.

Bucky purred, lying on the floor and letting Steve move between his thighs. He moved one leg over Steve’s shoulder, letting Steve slip in a bit more. He cried out when Steve started to move in and out with long, steady thrusts.

Steve panted roughly, his hands gripping Bucky’s hips. He pulled up one of Bucky’s arms to kiss at his palms, still pumping in and out.

Bucky was overflowing with stimulation. His eyes wouldn’t stop crying and that _feeling_ that made him go white-hot just kept coming. He sobbed, arching his back off the floor, cupping Steve’s face. He couldn’t breathe right. Pleasure beat down against him like a hailstorm. He pushed himself onto Steve, trying desperately to get the man to move faster.

“You gettin’ impatient, baby?” Steve teased, smirking up now from under Bucky. “I’m just gettin’ started.”

Bucky sobbed again, digging his nails into Steve’s face and slicing at the flesh.

Steve rumbled out a growl, throwing Bucky back onto the floor and shoving inside him roughly.

Bucky’s vision blacked out as he gasped, his body plagued by that delicious sensation again. “H-how do you…”

Steve pulled Bucky’s legs around his waist, lurching them up and slamming them back onto the bed. He kissed Bucky’s lips, his teeth clacking painfully against Bucky’s.

Bucky moaned into the kiss, running his fingers through Steve’s hair as he rocked up with Steve’s thrusts.

“G-gonna come soon, baby,” Steve breathed out.

Bucky nodded, pressing a kiss to Steve’s face. “Don’t pull out.”

Steve kissed down Bucky’s jaw, nibbling at the underside of his chin. He thrust into Bucky fully, an onslaught of power and momentum that made Bucky forget the concept of individuals.

They were melded into one being. Pleasure surging from one man’s nerves and down into the other’s. Steve didn’t have an end, just a series of different beginnings where Bucky was pressed beneath him. Bucky had never felt so complete before. Nights where his Steve stayed over, where they’d hug or playfully punch each other. It was never like this.

It would never be enough– not like this.

Bucky…needed this.

Bucky cried out, feeling Steve berate against that sweet spot again, his body trembling violently as Steve groaned, rough and animalistic. Steve dug his teeth into Bucky’s collarbone, tearing at the skin.

Bucky screamed as another orgasm shot through him, like lightning searing into the earth. He dug his fingers into Steve’s back again, slashing down and feeling skin beneath nails.

Steve collapsed atop Bucky, panting heavily over a nipple.

Bucky stared up at the dark ceiling, gasping and trying to remember where he was. He looked around the room, swallowing thickly. He needed water.

“Jesus…” Bucky appraised breathlessly. “You don’t hold anything back do you?”

Steve hummed, darting his tongue out to lick Bucky’s nipple.

“N-no! No more! I can’t take more!”

Steve laughed, kissing Bucky’s chest. “Five minutes.”

“Huh?”

Steve slipped out of Bucky. It left a cold, open feeling in his wake. Bucky could feel Steve’s come slipping from his ass and along his thighs. It wasn’t unpleasant… Bucky just wanted Steve pressed up inside him again.

“Five minutes and we’ll go again.” Steve kissed Bucky’s shoulder, nuzzling along the bite marks. “We look like we were tryin’ to kill each other.”

“I think we _were_ tryin’ to kill each other,” Bucky teased, leaning down to kiss Steve’s head. “Fuck me you’re brutal.”

Steve snorted, nuzzling along Bucky’s pectoral muscle.

“I don’t always have to be,” Steve explained, tracing the pads of his fingers along the curves of Bucky’s chest. “I can be real gentle too.”

Bucky’s heart melted at the softness in Steve’s words. They were so sincere. When Bucky first met this man, he’d been met with the illusions of what could be. He’d fought them at every turn. He knew this man was different. He knew that this _world_ was different. He didn’t belong here. But he wanted to belong with Steve.

Bucky’s Steve… would never fill him like this. He’d never shower him with the affections that this Steve was willing to give. It cut into Bucky like a cold knife. Now that Bucky had a taste, he didn’t want to let go of it. It could be like this… All he had to do was stay.

_‘What am I doing?’_

Bucky shimmied down on Steve, nuzzling his head against the crook of the man’s neck. Steve’s arms opened for him and he pushed into them. He sighed in content, closing his eyes and smelling this man’s salty skin.

“I said– a while ago I said I think I love you? Well.” Bucky paused, licking his swollen lips. “I love you.”

There was a long pause. Steve stared at Bucky like someone had just given him the true meaning of life. Bucky squirmed beneath that gaze, trying to offer a smile, but it was brief and mostly sad. It felt wrong to love someone who wasn’t the Steve he’d grown up with. But he _was_ that Steve. Molded by different hands, made from steel and not clay. He was Steve. And Bucky loved him. There was no denying it anymore, no lingering thoughts of a blond from back home. Bucky loved _this_ Steve.

“I love you too.” Steve wiped at his eyes.

Bucky couldn’t hide the smile that now graced his features. Steve wasn’t saying it, but Bucky knew how much this meant to him. This Steve always showed his emotions right on the surface. There was a silent pride within Bucky’s heart– about making this man cry. It wasn’t the act itself but the meaning behind it. Bucky could see the way Steve’s muscles relaxed into the bed. He could see the relief that soothed the wounds that Bucky had inflicted moments before.

“I want– I want to try with you being gentle. I wanna go again.” Bucky pressed a soft kiss to the hollow of Steve’s neck.

Steve laughed, rolling atop Bucky. With ease, he slipped back into Bucky, rocking back and forth, like the calm waves of an ocean morning.

Bucky gasped, his eyes fluttering shut. He curled his arms around Steve’s shoulders, holding this man close to him. A man that would give him what he wanted– whenever he wanted.

Maybe… maybe this was _his_ Steve, and the one he’d grown up with– was just the other.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Artist's Note:** This chapter was so exciting I had to do two pieces. Consider it a gift for no update last week. (My fault. L1av was all ready to go.)
> 
> The first one is the fight between the Steves, plus a little someone extra ;). The other one is of Bucky and Steve's first time together. I love the contrast between these scenes, how mirror Steve can be so brutal with others, with HIMSELF even, but still be so tender with Bucky. Meanwhile Buck is so infatuated with this Steve that he has no idea what he almost lost. 
> 
> It's also really fun to visually interpret these two world. I like to imagine our world as being very light and vibrant with lots of warm colors. Nature is thriving around the Avengers compound. On the other side, the mirror universe is saturated in cold colors, with artificial lighting. Very industrial. This can be considered beautiful in it's own right, but when you're surrounded by that for too long the gorgeous silvery blue tones stop feeling soothing and start to feel more sad and lonely.


	4. A Smile With No Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky learns that the mirrorverse Steve hasn't been entirely honest with him. Meanwhile, the other Steve gets a step closer to finding Bucky again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY! The team had exams. Womp womp. The next update will actually be 2 chapters at once (because they are the ending chapters). Keep in mind one of those chapters has a MCD and the other does not. They are 2 different endings. You can read both, or you can read one. Up to you. 
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains 2 sentences ((in a letter)) discussing a past witness to a rape. I figured I'd warn. Again: 2 sentences. Witnessing. Not experiencing.
> 
> If anyone is curious, I listen to a specific playlist when writing this fic. [Youtube Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLvIr9Ez4kK0yJUtGrzcC4Bu49RERMLibM)
> 
> As always, thank you to the glorious [nataliarushman](http://nataliarushman.tumblr.com/) for her magical betaing powers.

Bucky was alive. Bucky was alive and _someone_ had him. Someone with _his_ face. Someone with _his_ voice. Steve’s blood was boiling, quaking and on the verge of exploding inside him. He felt inexplicably hot, like his skin would melt off and he’d look just like the Red Skull. He felt like the Red Skull, anger and madness all cycloned into one being. Someone stole his Bucky and Steve swore to the Almighty God…

He’d _fucking_ get him back.

Steve would destroy the world for Bucky. He’d bend his morals, he’d compromise his convictions. He’d bring the world to its knees and he’d ask it to beg for mercy before giving none.

His Bucky. His. And someone _else_ with _his_ face had him.

No.

Steve paced the long room, like a tiger in a cage too small. His throat was starting to hurt and each time he swallowed, it was like someone was shoving sandpaper down it. His hands were jammed into fists that just _begged_ to slam into the man who took the one thing that meant anything to him. The one tether he had to everything he stood for. His other half. His heart. His goddamned soul.

Bucky Barnes meant everything to Steve. He’d lost him once. And in a desperate plea for redemption, Steve had kept on fighting the good fight. He had tried to die and when that hadn’t worked, he’d kept trying. Again and again and again. Nothing had seemed to work, so he’d kept fighting. He’d kept fighting so there’d be a chance that he’d find himself dying. But when Bucky had come back? Everything had changed.

Steve’s life had _meant_ something again. He wasn’t just a symbol of American hope. He wasn’t just a lingering piece of memorabilia that stood for everything he actually stood against. He had become Steve Rogers again. He had _found_ himself again. Steve Rogers– that boy from Brooklyn. He was alive and so was Bucky and Steve would burn the world and watch it suffer so long as Bucky was by his side.

“Steve,” Nat’s voice came, soft and timid. She reached out her hand, wrapping her fingers around Steve’s fist. “You okay? I’ve– I’ve never seen you like this before.” She leaned forward, her green eyes squinting at him.

Steve clenched his teeth. He could hear his blood rushing against his eardrum. He could feel every heated bit of anger he had ever felt all at once and it was enough to practically set him on fire. But he didn’t move. He let her peer into him like he was a monkey in a zoo. He’d spent a lifetime hiding his feelings. What was a few more days?

“We’ll get him back,” Nat continued, her eyes round.

Steve opened his mouth, sucking in a deep breath before letting it all out. He let his shoulders slump, let his fingers relax and let go of that burning desire to rip heads off spinal cords.

“We know he’s alive,” Sam said from across the room. He was in his full Falcon gear with his arms crossed over his chest. “That’s a plus.”

“But this guy was _wearing my face_ ,” Steve snarled. He tensed, but Nat’s hand squeezed around his wrist. He turned to look at her, watching those eyes say everything.

_‘He’s your friend.’_

Steve relaxed, slumping back against the window. He crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his hands beneath his armpits. He’d start throwing punches if he wasn’t careful. These _were_ his friends. But none of them really understood. Steve lived in a world where he wasn’t supposed to. He was alive when he was supposed to be dead. Bucky was his only solace and he couldn’t even properly take care of that.

They lived in half-truths, going on missions and pretending it was like nothing bad had ever happened when it was anything but. Steve just felt so _guilty_. He didn’t know how to bring it up– the past. And every time he’d tried, Bucky had always been there with a smile and a pat on his back. How could he dive into the worst memories they had when Bucky was clearly desperately trying to avoid them? Bucky needed to move on. He’d suffered enough and the last thing Steve wanted to do was force all those memories back. The last thing Steve wanted to do was push himself or his guilt onto Bucky. Bucky had other shit to deal with; he didn’t need Steve’s baggage too.

And even if they got past _that_ conversation, why would Steve think that a man like Bucky Barnes, a lady killer and stone-cold stunner, would want anything to do with Steve on any level that wasn’t brotherhood? They’d grown up together. They’d learned what boobs were together. Bucky had coached Steve on how to properly unhook a bra and why it was better to start with one finger instead of two to get a girl wet. Bucky had been straight growing up, he had been straight in the war and Steve was a fool to think he’d just suddenly change that.

Bucky had other things to deal with than chasing skirts or listening to midnight confessions out of Steve’s mouth. It was better if Steve just buried it and called the whole idea a shitshow. They were brothers. They had _always_ been brothers. Bucky had made that clear as day and Steve wouldn’t dare do anything but respect it.

But even so. There was nothing wrong with having an unshakable familial bond. There was nothing wrong with loving someone so passionately that you didn’t dare want to get closer to them. Bucky’s blood didn’t need to flow through Steve’s veins. They were as close as close could be. And Bucky _belonged_ to Steve. Just as Steve belonged to Bucky.

He didn’t know if they were still talking around him. Sounds echoed into Steve’s mind and reverberated right back out. He felt like he was in a tunnel. All he saw was Bucky’s face. His smile. His tears. His scream…

“He’s mine,” Steve said, stunning the room into silence.

“What?” Clint asked at the foot of the table.

“Bucky,” Steve answered. “He’s _mine_ and I’ll destroy everything in my way until I get ‘im back.”

The room went silent. Scott dropped a pen he was holding. Sam and Nat both shuffled around awkwardly. Steve felt like he was about to burst. He was a geyser, trembling and quaking with anticipation for that release but none of his friends had ever seen that. Their strained features were evidence enough and Steve wasn’t so sure where he could run when he needed to blow.

It was Wanda who put her hand on his shoulder this time, Nat still flanking his other side. All the building worry about his friends dissipated, like steam in a dry room.

Steve looked at her, his gaze flicking to her long curls before he looked back into her face. She knew how Steve felt. _God,_ she knew it even worse than Steve. Her twin, her very heart, had died and there was nothing she could do about it. Steve had gotten Bucky back. Wanda hadn’t been so lucky.

“We will do everything in our power to bring him back to you,” she said. “I swear it.”

Steve reached up, placing his hand atop hers. She was so dainty and yet the same anger that flowed through Steve raged within her veins. He nodded, never looking away from her face as red glowed behind her pupils.

“Do we have any leads?” Scott asked. “He dumped the quinjet, left Clint mostly unharmed except with a cute needle stick in his neck and that’s that?”

“Cute needle stick? That thing– really knocked me out…” Clint admitted, rubbing at his neck. “But no. Other than him dumping the jet, we ain’t got shit.”

“He didn’t kill you,” Nat observed. “That’s something to note.”

Clint looked positively scandalized. He puffed up his chest, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to formulate words that just didn’t want to come to him.

“The guy wears your face and he doesn’t kill your friends. That’s a lead, right?” Sam offered, shrugging. “Maybe he knows us all.”

“The last place we were,” Steve began. “That HYDRA base in Mlyn. There’s gotta be somethin’ there to give us a clue about this guy. It all started there.”

“Actually,” a deep female voice came from the door opening. Everyone looked over to see Maria Hill and Nick Fury, both clad in black. “That was a SHIELD base.”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Sam professed, rolling his eyes. “Man, what part of ‘secrets are stupid’ do y’all not get?”

Steve ignored him, moving toward Nick and Maria. He looked at the files in Maria’s hands. They were browning, old and some had fire damage to them.

“I don’t keep tabs on much anymore when it comes to SHIELD now that Coulson’s running it,” Fury explained. “But I do keep tabs on one very specific thing.”

“Okay hold on, you can’t just drop a bomb like that and not expect us to be confused,” Clint rambled. “Coulson’s alive? Phil Coulson?”

If it had been any other time, Steve would stop to inquire too, but this was Bucky’s life on the line. Loki could be running SHIELD for all Steve cared and he’d still keep his focus on Bucky.

“SHIELD made some very interesting discoveries after its formation,” Fury explained. “Asgardians have been coming to this planet far before we knew they existed. Same with– others.”

“Others,” Steve replied, cocking a brow.

“There are an infinite amount of realities and hypothetically, we believe each reality contains some version of ourselves. After SHIELD was formed, it sent twelve agents on a mission to one of these universes in the hopes of gaining knowledge, making connections– peaceful connections.” Fury moved over to the table, sitting next to Scott and pressing a gloved hand on the table. “They were wrong. Very. Wrong.”

“Wait, other realities? Hold on, I know I went subatomic once but this?” Scott questioned, looking more like he was about to shatter from confusion than everyone else in the room, who just took it all in stride. “You mean to tell me there’s a ton of other me’s running around? Do you know how terrifying that actually is?”

Fury looked to Steve, clicking his tongue. “The program was headed by Agent Carter. Twelve agents went in, zero agents came back. We thought perhaps they never made it or got lost. It wasn’t till we did a little more investigating that we realized they _had_ gone over and helped start that world’s very own rendition of World War II.”

Steve sighed, looking over at the wall-spanning window. “Jesus.”

“SHIELD sent two other scouts through, nearly twenty years later for a single hour. That’s all it took for them to figure out what had happened. All twelve agents had been executed. After that, Agent Carter ordered all the files to be destroyed and the program to be permanently shut down. These are all the remaining files we have.”

“What happened there?” Steve asked, following Fury over to the table. He didn’t sit. He was too antsy to sit. Fury liked his stories and Steve would play along as long as it meant the end of this conversation would result in how to get Bucky back.

“The twelve agents veered from the plan. Their world almost avoided World War II, so it started a few years after ours did. All we found was that the twelve were killed for being ‘other-worlders’ and that world held them accountable for the war.”

“And you think Bucky’s there now? In a world where people like us aren’t so welcome?” Steve concluded. “How do we get there?” He leaned forward, his fingers itching to punch something. Bucky was alone in a world that was hostile to him. But…

Steve inhaled sharply, his back snapping straight up as he stared off behind Fury.

“Steve, what?” Sam asked, taking a few steps closer.

“Bucky found another me,” Steve replied softly. “He– he found another me.”

Fury didn’t respond. He pursed his lips, looking over at Maria.

Steve felt hollow. Of course Bucky would trust anyone who claimed to be Steve Rogers. Of course he’d follow them. If what Fury said was true, then Bucky had to know he wasn’t in the right world. He had to know _that_ Steve wasn’t _Steve_. But he was there, with him. Bucky was with another Steve…

Steve felt his limbs waver, threatening to give out like jelly out in the sun too long. Sam put his hand on Steve’s shoulder, just a curt short nod of sympathy. Steve nodded back, clenching his jaw.

“How do we get over there?” Nat asked, her voice tense.

“You don’t,” Fury replied. “The last person who went over fried out the machines. I thought it was a blip in the system so I ignored the initial fry, but when it happened again, I knew there was activity. HYDRA’s been bringing that base back up to working order. That’s why you thought it was HYDRA’s and not SHIELD’s. Our machines haven’t been upgraded since Agent Carter shut the program down. That _mirror_ Steve, he fried the machines when he went back over.”

“He has Bucky,” Steve professed hoarsely. He didn’t want to be touched. He didn’t want to be babied. There was only one person in the world that he’d allow to hold him up and care for him like a fragile child and that person was in another reality with another Steve and that was absolutely _unacceptable_. “He has _my_ Bucky. Doesn’t he have his own?! Or…” Steve felt sick. His stomach rolled haphazardly inside him, squeezing and churning. His Bucky had died once; maybe the other Steve’s had too. Maybe since Steve’s had lived, that one’s Bucky hadn’t. “God…fuck!” Steve twirled around and punched through the wall. It broke all the way to the other room. He felt his knuckles bust open, the pain igniting like fire against his skin, but he didn’t care. He was breaking. He was shattering like an egg with too much pressure atop it. There was only so much he could take before he’d crumble into a mess of yolk and shell.

Another Steve had Bucky and he’d been smart– no, _desperate–_ enough to know that Steve was the one tether to this world that Bucky had.

“I have to save him,” Steve whispered, staring at the hole in the wall. “Who can we get to fix those machines? I can’t ask Tony. Things’re...well you all know how things are between us.” He felt like a wild dog cornered in a cage too small. He was frantic and ready to do everything, _anything_ to get Bucky back from a Steve that he didn’t belong to.

But fuck! He was with another Steve! Clearly the other guy cared about him enough to want to keep him, but why? What kind of intentions did he have? If he was that desperate, then that meant his own Bucky was gone. Was Bucky there under duress? Did he want to be there? Was he okay?! Jesus, Steve wasn’t sure if the ground was moving or if he’d suddenly lost the ability to stand upright. He brought his hands out, balancing himself against the wall and looking at his feet. He needed to calm down. He couldn’t shatter. Bucky’s life was on the line. Bucky’s happiness, his home, his _goddamned_ memories.

_‘I’d have done it too, if it meant saving Bucky… I’d have killed another me too…’_

“HOW DO WE FIX THOSE FUCKING MACHINES?!” Steve shouted, his voice one notch away from frantic and crazed. He whirled around to stare at Fury with a madness he never thought he possessed. He was fighting himself… This other guy was _him_. It was clear as day that if Steve was willing to destroy the world, so was the other guy.

Fury looked at his gloved hands, then up to Maria and then what felt like an eternity later, he finally looked to Steve again. “We work with HYDRA.”

“Aw fuck this! Steve, there’s gotta be another way,” Sam began, coming to block Steve’s view of Fury.

“I mean, sure, we could invest billions of dollars we don’t have into technology SHIELD decided to throw the manuals out for,” Fury droned. “Hank Pym’s a smart man but he’d need years to figure this out. But that’s probably okay since we’d need time to get those billions of dollars anyway, since Rogers and Stark have iced each other out.”

Steve looked right past Sam, ignoring his words and focusing entirely on Fury’s. His mind was made up. He’d do anything… _anything._

“No,” Steve answered. He couldn’t even recognize his own voice. It was the voice of a man so defeated that he clung to hope as if it’d keep his very heart beating. “We work with HYDRA.”

* * *

Bucky stared at himself in the mirror. He had bruises on his throat where Steve had choked him (consensually of course) and there were bite marks along his neck and down his shoulder and collarbone. He stepped back, looking at his torso. Love bites and marks were all over his chest– fingerprints, teeth, scratches. It was beautiful. His body would heal before nightfall, so Bucky soaked it all up now. He memorized each bruise and how Steve’s nails had sliced into him with ease.

_Knock knock knock._

“Yeah?” Bucky answered, turning around and looking at the claw marks that went down to his ass.

Steve opened the door, licking his lips approvingly as he watched Bucky look at himself in the nude. “Did I go overboard last night?”

Bucky laughed. “No. I like it.” He slipped up against Steve, wrapping his arms around the man. He’d never considered himself _submissive_ before. But it was nice, getting to feel like the only thing that mattered was Steve and what Steve was doing to him. It’d been a fun night and Bucky wouldn’t mind doing it again soon.

Steve pressed a soft kiss to Bucky’s lips. He let his hands trail down to Bucky’s ass and gave it a nice squeeze.

Bucky rolled his hips into Steve, pushing the man into the bathroom wall.

“Settle down there soldier,” Steve teased, nipping Bucky’s nose. “I’ve got duty.”

Bucky pouted, clicking his tongue. “Can I come with you?”

“This ain’t your war.”

“Yeah, I know. But if you want me to _live_ here with you, I gotta do something. I can’t just be on the sidelines. I gotta be with you.”

Steve’s eyes opened, round and surprised. He swallowed loudly, his hands still firmly on Bucky’s ass. “You– you’d live here?”

Bucky shrugged, dropping his head on Steve’s shoulder. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like getting to be so close to Steve. He liked standing here naked and adorned only with the marks Steve had left on his body. He liked the casual familiarity they had and how safe he felt in these arms. Steve was ruthless and honestly, Bucky liked that about him. If anyone would protect Bucky no matter what, it was the man standing before him.

_‘He’d jump from a train if I fell…’_

The thought made Bucky’s heart wring, but he set his jaw, looking up at Steve’s beard, his eyes that only saw Bucky, and the way those brows pinched together like a puppy’s. Bucky was in love with this man. He got to _be_ in love with this man. He’d shared things with this Steve that he never got to share with the other one. It hurt, letting the man he’d loved all those years go, but maybe this is how it was meant to be. Maybe that other Steve was better off without Bucky’s baggage.

That Steve would look at Bucky and only see failure. Maybe it was a kindness to just simply go away.

“Lemme come with you,” Bucky tried again, getting on his tiptoes and pressing kisses all over Steve’s cheeks, nose and brow.

Steve laughed, gently prying Bucky back. “You need to shave.”

“What, you don’t like a little beard burn? I do.” He waggled his brows salaciously, earning a loud laugh from Steve.

“Oh I noticed,” Steve teased, running a finger between Bucky’s thighs. “Right here…” He trailed his fingers up to the crook of Bucky’s thigh, right next to his balls. “…and here…”

Bucky shivered, rocking his hips forward. He was already hard as a fucking rock. “Five minutes. Just fuck me for five minutes.”

Steve rolled his eyes. But instead of moving past Bucky, he just dropped his pants and pushed Bucky against the wall.

Bucky would shave after.

* * *

“Our scouts inform me that we’ve got ORS treading pretty close to our territory. Russia pays us a lot of money to keep dirtbags like that out. You wanna keep surviving? We gotta do our job. Our job is border protection. Annihilate the ORS operatives and loot any of their supplies.” Listening to this Fury reminded Bucky of the days he sat in the back of mission briefings in World War II. Except instead of the feeling that they were in a war for something right, Bucky saw everything here as something wrong. Their mission was to slaughter a bunch of people of a different military faction and take their stuff…basically. And of course it was all under the pretense of protecting Russia. Granted, Bucky didn’t know who ORS were or what they stood for, but he’d started to get a pretty good grasp on this world and nothing was as black and white as it seemed.

“Barnes,” Fury said. Everyone turned to look at Bucky. He saw no one that offered any form of support. There was just anger. Natasha and Clint looked like they’d rather murder Bucky than anything else. Even Brock was looking at his toes as he curled into Jack Rollins.

“Since our fine Captain thinks you’re ready to see live combat with us, you’ll take point with him.”

“What?” A guy closer to the front shot up. He was blond and big, but size really didn’t matter to Bucky when he knew more than fifty ways to kill a man just with his pointer finger. “I’ve had Cap’s back since Ja–”

Steve cleared his throat rather pointedly and that seemed to shut the blond man up. He walked forward, raising his sword and pointing it at the blond. “Since when?”

“Captain, I just meant that I’ve got’cher back.” He raised his hands in surrender, looking at the sword as if it was a snake getting ready to strike.

Bucky watched, his mouth open in a stunned silence. Steve kept that broadsword in front of the blond, tilting his head to the side like he was just getting started with this conversation. It honestly reminded Bucky of a bird of prey getting ready to gobble down a weasel.

“ _Since when, Edward_?” The words were venom spilling from Steve’s mouth.

“S-since James, sir,” the man replied, turning away and gritting his teeth.

Bucky couldn’t hold back anymore. He stepped forward, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder and biting his lip anxiously. Steve turned to him, his nostrils flaring and anger blazing in those eyes. For a moment, Bucky was almost sure Steve would start the same song and dance he’d done with the other guy, but he put the sword down. It clacked loudly against the flooring.

“I’m out of line,” Bucky explained. “I know that. But he’s probably right. I don’t got a right takin’ point with you.”

There were murmurs that Bucky didn’t care to listen to. Steve bit his lip, staring at his feet.

“Well, Captain,” Fury said. “Looks like Barnes admits he’s not strong enough to run with the big dogs.”

Bucky glared at Fury. If Steve had taught him anything about this world, it was that weakness wasn’t tolerated and that’s what would get him killed. If he had any chance in hell of seeing his old Steve again, he’d need to survive and to do that, he needed to prove himself.

“Oh I’m strong enough,” Bucky snapped back. “What I’m saying is that I’ve not proven it. And if I’m gonna, don’t I need to show that you can trust me out there?”

Steve’s mouth dropped open. He looked to Fury, shrugged, and then cracked a smile at Bucky. “You sure you wanna do this? If you challenge someone, you die or they die.”

“No,” Bucky responded quickly. “I won’t kill them. I don’t _need_ to kill them to show you how much better I am. You’ll just know.”

More murmurs through the crowded briefing room. Bucky felt like he was onstage, flouncing around in a skirt. He briefly wondered if this was how Steve had felt with the USO dancers. He felt naked and exposed, but there was some kind of courage swirling inside him. It was empowering to have so many faces look at him in awe and curiosity. At least they weren’t staring at him like they all wanted to murder him anymore. Just one of them was going to try to do that now…

Steve leaned back against the wall, his sword against his hip. He nodded in the direction of the people who had gathered. “Well, pick someone.”

Bucky didn’t have to think too hard about that one. “You,” he said pointing to the blond– Edward.

“You serious?” he asked, his brows rising. “You’re gonna try to challenge me, but you won’t kill me?”

Bucky didn’t want to kill anyone ever again if he could help it. But he realized the necessity of survival here. He had limited options and the way everyone looked at him like he didn’t _deserve_ to be here made this all the more fragile of a situation. It was only a matter of time until someone challenged him, or worse, went after Steve instead. Bucky was always chasing after Steve and making sure he was protected. Now he was trying to protect a Steve that he was damn sure didn’t need his protection– but Bucky was nothing if not consistent. And he loved this man.

“You afraid?” Bucky asked, his face morphing into one of his dark, blank stares. He curled his fingers, listening to his arm whirr to life as the plates moved around.

Edward noticed.

“I get a weapon too,” Edward said. “If you get that arm, I get a weapon too.”

Bucky put his bionic arm behind his back. “I won’t have to use it. But sure, feel free to grab a weapon.”

Steve laughed, approval clear as day on that handsome face.

Bucky looked over at Fury. Even he seemed impressed with Bucky’s behavior. He wasn’t scowling. Bucky had to take that as some kind of backwards compliment.

Edward stood up, grabbing a knife from his belt. He twirled it around a few times before taking a fighting stance.

Bucky smirked. The guy’s legs were too far apart for his shoulder to waist ratio and he held his arms more like he was gearing up for a fist fight instead of a knife fight. Bucky guessed this did look more like a fist fight, though.

Edward moved in first, coming down swinging with the knife. Bucky kept on the defensive as he moved backwards, curving his body in the opposite direction of the swings from the knife.

Edward growled, using his other hand to land a punch in Bucky’s gut.

Bucky didn’t even groan as he felt his stomach get reacquainted with his spleen. The guy had one hell of a punch.

“Really, you gonna run from me?” Edward taunted. “James was good at that too.”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open in surprise. He looked over at Steve, watching anger turn that face a deep shade of red.

As Edward continued to come at Bucky, Bucky kept on the defensive, bringing up his hand to block punches and divert the knife away from himself. They hadn’t even been fighting for more than five minutes when Bucky lashed out with a foot and looked like he meant to trip Edward up.

Edward stepped back and that’s when Bucky leapt up, using his thighs to crush down and constrict the man’s windpipe. He still kept his metal hand behind his back as he squeezed his legs harder around the man’s throat.

Edward flailed backwards, slamming Bucky into the large board with the briefing information on it. He tried to shove his knife into Bucky’s thigh but Bucky used his flesh hand, letting the knife dig right into the palm of his hand.

Bucky only gritted his teeth, the smallest groan coming out of his throat as he let the knife get stuck in his hand. He yanked his hand back, curving his back and flipping Edward over and down into the floor hard.

He pulled the knife out. HYDRA had done one thing right. They had experimented on Bucky, over and over– again and _again_. They had made him into the most efficient and ruthless killing machine and pain _didn’t_ bother him anymore. He jumped back onto Edward before the man could stand up, shoving his knee into the guy’s throat and using the knife to dislodge a knee cap.

Edward screamed out, jerking ferociously as his knee was mutilated.

Bucky threw the knife into the wall, watching it tremble as it planted itself.

“Good luck walking again,” Bucky hissed as he put more pressure on the guy’s throat with his knee. The guy’s face was going purple and his struggle was only speeding up the inevitable.

Eventually, he passed out. It was almost a mercy, considering Bucky had just severed the knee cap from the tendons. He could walk with surgery, but Bucky wasn’t really sure if BLADE bothered to patch up soldiers or if they just quietly did away with them.

The fact that Bucky didn’t care what happened to this man confirmed everything he ever thought about himself.

He was the darkness that plagued the world, and the Steve from back home was the light. Bucky would embrace his ferocity here. This Steve accepted him for it and that’s what Bucky was now. He’d been deconstructed and made into a machine to kill. It didn’t matter if it was by choice or not. He was a machine made to kill. A gun didn’t become friendly just because a murderer was no longer behind the trigger. It was still just as threatening as it was before.

Bucky stood up, taking a big gulp of air. He wrapped his bionic fingers around his flesh hand, watching the blood slip through. “I need some bandages.”

Steve came over to examine the wound. It was thin, but still all the way through. Luckily Edward got the meat of Bucky’s hand and didn’t entirely dislodge all the bone.

“That was…” Fury stepped forward, looking over Edward’s unconscious body. “…acceptable, Barnes.”

Bucky smirked. He wasn’t sure if he’d heard a true compliment even from the other Fury. That was probably be the closest he’d ever get.

“Patch ‘im up. You ship out tomorrow. That hand better heal like James’ body used to.”

“He’s got the serum,” Steve said, not taking his eyes off Bucky. His fingers were trembling. His eyes were almost all black and he couldn’t stop licking and biting his own lips. Bucky watched in amazement. Those beautiful lips kept getting redder, fuller and _wetter_. “He’ll be fine.”

Steve yanked Bucky out of the briefing room, pulling him along roughly.

“W-we goin’ to the med bay?” Bucky asked, looking at the elevator. He was pretty damn sure the medical floor was above them, but Steve was leading them over to one of the supply closets.

He opened the heavy door and shoved Bucky inside. Before Bucky had a moment to register his dark surroundings, Steve’s mouth was on his. He was growling and biting into Bucky’s lips– hard. He grinded his body against Bucky, his cock hard and pressing firm into Bucky’s groin.

“S-Steve,” Bucky gasped, as he felt his hands being pulled up above his head. “I’m gonna get blood on us.”

“Good,” Steve responded huskily, kissing down Bucky’s neck. “Fucking _Christ,_ Bucky. Do you have any idea how badly I wanna get crushed by your thighs now? You were so goddamn beautiful. I’ve never seen something so fuckin’ perfect.”

Bucky gasped as Steve nipped at his neck. He felt blood running down his wrist but right now, he didn’t care. Steve was on him, pushing into him and claiming him with that mouth and beautiful beard. Steve was growling, kissing, sucking and _God_ , did he ever feel good pressed so close. His beard pushed roughly against Bucky’s face, getting wetter and wetter as their mouths sloshed together messily. It was frantic and forceful and just the way Bucky liked it– rough.

“You’re so goddamned beautiful,” Steve continued. “Keep your hands above your head.”

“Jesus,” Bucky hissed, leaning back into whatever was behind him. It felt like shelving but it was blacker than pitch in here. He was only aware of Steve’s body because of how close they were. Other than that, it was a blank expanse and Bucky didn’t know where his body was or Steve’s, but that didn’t matter. They didn’t need to see. They only needed to feel.

“Wanna get my lips around you,” Steve husked out. He bit roughly at Bucky’s jaw before nuzzling into Bucky’s throat. “Fuck, wanna feel your come slip down my throat.”

“Fuck me.” Bucky dropped his head back. “Whatever you want baby, just don’t stop.”

Steve started tugging at Bucky’s belt, yanking it off with a loud _thwick_. It clanked to the floor, followed by Steve dropping to his knees shortly thereafter.

“Jesus, Bucky. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” He nosed along Bucky’s crotch. His breath was hot against Bucky’s groin as he panted. Bucky moaned, rolling his head forward. His hand was starting to lose feeling but he didn’t care. He was pretty sure Steve asking him to keep his hand above his head was to help it stop bleeding. They’d get it taken care of later.

Bucky was trembling with excitement at the results of showing everyone what he was really capable of. He’d gotten this man on his knees before him. Bucky had publically displayed what he was capable of doing, and that wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. He knew his strength. He could probably take out half of this base before getting gunned down. He had the brawn, but he also had enough smarts to know that if he tried to mount a one-man mission to take this place down, he wouldn’t just eat a bullet; he’d be fed to the sharks. He didn’t exactly want to see Moose unless it was for a friendly swim after feeding time. But he knew he was _stronger_ than these men and women. Not Steve, probably, but most of the others.

His display of strength had gotten Steve’s blood pumping and Bucky was more than thankful for the desperation he felt in Steve’s trembling fingers when Steve untucked Bucky from his briefs.

“Tell me to suck it,” Steve asked, his voice sharp and raspy. “Wanna hear you talk the way you did to Eddie.”

Bucky had to bite back a moan. He rolled his hips, bucking out into the open air before settling back against the shelving. “Suck it, Steve. Put it in your goddamn mouth before I shove it in.”

“Oh fucking Jesus,” Steve gasped. He pushed Bucky’s legs apart, wasting no time getting his wet mouth around Bucky’s dick. He reached around Bucky, curling his fingers into the dimples of Bucky’s back as he bobbed his head.

“Oh _fuck me_!” Bucky groaned. Steve’s mouth was absolutely downright _filthy_. He sucked hard and the sounds that echoed into the room were far beyond legal. His tongue teased at Bucky’s slit, flirting salaciously before Steve swallowed Bucky down. He gagged softly on Bucky’s cock, his throat muscles fluttering around the intrusion.

Bucky couldn’t help it. He snapped his hips forward, feeling his tip hit the back of Steve’s throat. He gasped sharply. It was soft and warm inside Steve’s mouth. Those muscles worked around Bucky’s length flawlessly and each dribble of saliva he felt cooling against his balls made his stomach flutter.

“Oh shit…oh fuck,” Bucky babbled, letting his head roll from side to side. He threaded his fingers through Steve’s hair, pulling roughly and earning an animalistic groan as Steve sucked his cock.

He wouldn’t last like this. It was quick, filthy, and by design meant to be brief. Steve’s tongue trailed along each curve and dip around Bucky’s tip, flicking out relentlessly. He rocked his head back and forth, making sure to drag those wet, swollen lips up and down Bucky’s shaft.

Bucky was panting heavily, pulling and tugging at Steve’s hair. He contemplated forcing Steve still to fuck into his mouth but that would require using his wounded hand and he needed to keep that above him. He sank back into the shelves. He knew for a fact they were shelves now. He felt little objects pressing into him with each thrust of Steve’s mouth, felt the way the shelves themselves pushed between his shoulder blades. Jesus, he hadn’t felt this alive since saving Steve’s ass from back alleys. It always got his blood pumping when he saw Steve fighting despite his odds of winning. It was poetic that it seemed to do the same to this Steve here when Bucky was the one fighting.

“Oh God,” Bucky moaned as Steve sucked forcefully at his tip. “Oh God, I’m gonna come.”

Steve just dug his fingers into Bucky’s back and continued thrusting his mouth. He rocked his head back and forth, letting his tongue slip around Bucky’s cock. He sucked hard on the tip, swirling his tongue to tickle at the underside and Bucky was a fucking _goner_.

He cried out, thrusting forcefully into Steve’s mouth as his come spurted into Steve’s throat. Steve didn’t miss a single beat despite how hard Bucky was moving his hips. He guided Bucky’s trembling cock down to touch the back of his throat and he held it there. His muscles worked around Bucky’s cock, pulling the come down his throat.

Bucky slumped over, his wounded hand dropping on Steve’s shoulder. He cursed but then decided it didn’t fucking matter. Steve probably liked the blood anyway. He dropped forward as Steve gave his dick one last lick before he pulled off.

Bucky fell to his knees, breathing heavily and leaning his face into the crook of Steve’s neck. “If all it takes to get you hot and bothered is me using my thighs, I’d have done it sooner.”

Steve chuckled, kissing the side of Bucky’s face. “You really impressed ‘em. And I’m proud of you too.”

“Yeah?” Bucky took in a gasp of air before slumping more into Steve. He felt those big arms curl around him, pulling him down into his lap. Bucky went pliantly, nuzzling into Steve’s chest. Steve’s heart was pounding so hard it sounded like it would explode right out of his sternum.

“You’re just so damn perfect,” Steve continued to praise, “you’re everything I wanted. Even Ja– I mean…”

“S’okay. You can talk about ‘im. You know I don’t mind.”

“But then I feel hypocritical,” Steve explained. “I hate listenin’ to you talk about my counterpart.”

“Steve,” Bucky said before pulling Steve’s face to his for a rough kiss. He could taste himself on Steve’s tongue but that didn’t stop him from getting his point across. “I love you. You. Okay? You.”

Steve sighed, readjusting so he was leaning back against something. Bucky squirmed along with Steve so he could nestle his head into Steve’s chest again.

“Talk to me,” Bucky pleaded. “You were proud and now you seem– sad.”

“I am proud. God, I wanna show you off to the world. We could rule this place, ya’know? You n’ me.”

Bucky quirked a brow that he knew Steve couldn’t see in the utter darkness. “Rule this place?”

“Ya’know,” Steve explained, fidgeting. “With you at my side, we could challenge Fury.”

Bucky wasn’t sure if his nerves suddenly shorted out or his blood ran ice cold. He stared up at where he thought Steve’s face was, his mouth hanging open in silence. _Challenge_ Fury? The man who ruled BLADE with a hyper-ruthless thumb? His very glare sent some of the men scampering off in the other direction.

“I know you don’t like how we run things,” Steve kept going. “If we challenged him, we could change it, Bucky. I’d let you change it. Ya know, bring some of your world here.”

“Steve–”

“I’m not done,” Steve quipped, although gently. “I know you hate how we do things. And I respect that you rose up and challenged someone. You made your point. I saw it. We all did. You ain’t a toy to be fucked with. You’re stronger than James ever was. But you refused to kill Eddie. Everyone’s gonna be talkin’ about that, and honestly? That’s great. It’s the perfect time to step up and change this place. Lead maybe by a little more forgiveness.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Bucky whispered. He reached up, finding Steve’s throat before slipping his fingers into Steve’s beard. “Steve I can’t– We can’t.”

“Why not? You’re strong enough. I’m strong enough.”

“Because–” But Bucky found himself at a loss for words. There wasn’t really any _reason_ why he couldn’t. Hell, challenging Fury and making this place more like home didn’t really sound like a bad thing. In fact, it wasn’t. And therein lied the issue. Bucky didn’t _want_ to be complacent here. He didn’t want to find himself being needed in this world. The only thing that kept him here was Steve, but there was a whole other world with a whole other Steve, and Bucky couldn’t lie to himself. He was tethered there too.

“You don’t have to say it,” Steve whispered. “I already know.” He gently unfolded Bucky from his lap. Light filtered into the supply closet. Bucky looked around it. Shelves, emergency equipment, some custodial items. But what was painted all over the room was the evidence that this _wasn’t_ Bucky’s home. And both he and Steve knew it.

* * *

Bucky sat above the sharks, watching them swim lazily beneath him. He’d learned all their names. Learned which ones knew how to jump and snap at limbs when hungry and which ones recognized humans as friend. His hand was patched and stitched up, courtesy of Jack Rollins of all people. He’d never made it to the med bay. After his romp in the closet with Steve, Bucky wasn’t feeling up to seeing a whole new floor and trying to navigate it. It’d occurred to him that despite being on this base for a month now, he still didn’t know a damn thing about it. He’d wanted to go on a mission with Steve because he’d wanted to see this world. But his reasons seemed to ring hollow now. He’d wanted to find a way to get used to this place. But now, now he didn’t want that. He loved Steve. He truly did. But he loved the other one too and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to change that.

He tensed briefly, listening to someone walking on the rafters behind him. He turned, looking at Brock Rumlow. Every time Bucky looked at this man, he was completely astounded by the fact that he didn’t feel the need to pummel that face into an unrecognizable mush. This wasn’t the Brock Rumlow from home. He was a completely different person. Which begged the question on why both Steves were so similar. What made this Brock so good when the other one was so vile?

“Hey,” Brock said as he came to lean against the railing. “That was some challenge.”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied. “Guess I was sick of people thinkin’ I was just as weak as James.”

“They know you ain’t weak. They’re just pissed Captain Rogers ain’t sleepin’ with them.” He crouched down before carefully putting his legs over the rafters to swing them above the sharks.

“You know Foxy jumps right?”

“Foxy can’t aim worth shit,” Brock teased right back, cracking a smile.

They sat in comfortable silence, both staring out at the tanks, watching the sharks swim by. There was a little flutter from the water where Foxy seemed to pick on one of the other sharks but it quickly ended and the waters went quiet again. The only sounds were the creaking moans of the underwater base and the soft hiss of the overhead lighting.

Bucky sighed, leaning his forehead against the railing. “I fucked up.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I can’t let go,” Bucky explained. “I try to. I try so _damn_ hard. But I can’t let ‘im go. I know that Steve loves me. I know I’d probably live a good, happy life with him. I know it. But I can’t get over the one I left behind.”

Brock nodded, pursing his lips. “So you’d rather go back to uncertainty and risk a lifetime of sadness than stay here and know you’d have happiness?”

Bucky banged his head on the railing a few times. “I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

“Look,” Brock explained, scooting closer to Bucky. “If I were you, I’d wanna leave this place too. Fuck, _I_ wanna leave this place. But the machines get watched like hawks and–”

“Machines?” Bucky asked, lifting his head from the railing. He blinked a few times, watching the confusion trickle into Brock’s expression. “What machines?”

“The ones– Wait. Wait, aw shit. No, I can’t do this.” Brock started to stand up but Bucky grabbed his wrist with his bionic arm. The plates shifted loudly, drawing Brock’s attention to it. “Bucky, please let go.”

“What…machines…” Bucky growled, his glare murderous.

Brock started to gasp. He looked around the room desperately, tears already starting to filter into his eyes. “He’ll kill me, Bucky…” he whimpered. “Please don’t make me do this.”

Bucky let go. It was bad enough he’d doomed a man he didn’t know to a death at someone else’s hands. He couldn’t let Brock be another body added to his body count. He stood up, brushing himself off and straightening his shirt– olive green. He was stuck in a world of deep blue, black and olive green. And he _hated_ it.

“Where’s Steve?”

“He’s with Fury,” Brock answered. “They’re picking a new team since Eddie and now you can’t go.”

Bucky ran toward the elevator. It was like he was freefalling. Something thunderous screamed in his ears and his whole body felt like it was being pushed by something. He slammed his hand into the elevator button, watching the little light crack and sizzle out. The doors dinged a few moments later.

Steve had lied to him. Steve motherfucking Rogers. The _one_ person Bucky thought he could rely on. The one _fucking_ person he’d given his heart in two unique worlds. He’d fucking _lied_. And there’d be some motherfucking hell to pay.

* * *

Bucky had learned that Fury’s floor was only accessible with a keycard. What he’d also learned was that life support had vents crawling through most of this place and it was almost laughably easy to infiltrate them and sneak up to Fury’s floor. It was almost like the man didn’t think anyone would try to assassinate him. Though in a world where public challenges were how to address the chain of command, assassination probably wasn’t a forefront way to deal with anyone.

Bucky dropped down onto Fury’s floor, his jaw clenched so tight that his teeth struggled not to shatter. His fingers were trembling and his arm couldn’t stop twitching and whirring as his brain sent out all kinds of frantic signals. The word _pissed_ didn’t even begin to cover it. Black was clouding the corners of Bucky’s vision. That thunderous sound was still in his ears and his whole body felt like it’d been dumped into a tub of ice.

Steve turned, shock painted on his face as Bucky moved toward him.

“Bucky?”

“You wanna know what it feels like to get crushed by my thighs?” Bucky asked as he slammed his metal hand into Steve’s gut. “I’ll fuckin’ show you, YOU GODDAMNED LIAR!”

Steve collapsed onto the floor, gasping. He clutched his stomach, scrambling back up. He was breathing heavily but there was no anger on his face. He looked miserable. “Baby… Please just listen to me.”

“FUCK YOU!” Bucky wailed. “YOU FUCKING LIED TO ME!” Bucky charged at Steve. Flashbacks to a similar fight with a similar man filtered into his mind. Ruthless punches, extensive knife work and a desperate attempt to kill.

Bucky growled, backhanding Steve and watching him fly into one of Fury’s bookcases. He turned, peering through his hair as Fury just stood there, his face completely blank. “You!” Bucky proclaimed, pointing with his metal hand. “You’re the reason he’s like this! Steve would never–”

“Oh don’t give me that shit!” Fury announced. “You think I made your boyfriend be the way he is?” Fury spread his arms wide, looking around the large room. “Look around you, Barnes! This whole _world_ is dog-eat-dog!”

Steve stood up, clutching his sternum and spitting blood. He wasn’t fighting back. Bucky wanted him to. He wanted to see Steve as the monster he truly was.

“This whole time!” Bucky announced, his voice cracking. “This whole time _you knew_ how to get me back home!” He gasped, wavering on his feet. The adrenaline left his body almost as quick as it had come in. He was exhausted. And not just the type that required sleep. His brain wanted to just _end_. His heart struggled to keep beating. Every breath he took was a desperate last-ditch effort to just keep _surviving_.

“I know,” Steve said, holding up his hands to placate Bucky. “I know and I’m sorry! But I couldn’t let you go. I love you, Bucky! I love you so much and I couldn’t let you go back to a guy that don’t treat you right!”

“THAT WASN’T YOUR DECISION!” Bucky screamed, picking up a vase and throwing it at Steve.

Steve didn’t even move as the shards cut into his skin. He took the full brunt of the force and let it smash against him, the vase exploding like fireworks– wild and forceful.

Bucky wavered where he stood, allowing his knees to give in as he stumbled and collapsed onto the floor. “You lied…” He choked out a sob. He felt sick. The world was moving too fast, spinning at a velocity he hadn’t noticed before. Now here they were, tumbling around in a universe that _he_ didn’t belong to and it was all so wrong! “I fell in love with you… and you lied.”

“I know,” Steve said, taking a step forward. “I know and I’m so sorry. But please, Bucky. Please listen to me. I need you. I can’t live without you anymore.”

Bucky stood up, his bones shaking inside his skin, rattling him around like rice in a maraca. He looked around the room. The vase was in a thousand pieces, one of the book shelves was busted and about a half a dozen things were out of order or destroyed. Fury was still just standing there, watching with that blank gaze that made Bucky’s skin crawl.

“So die,” Bucky said, turning around. “I’m leaving. And you can’t stop me.”

Bucky heard the click before he made it to the elevator to push the button. He froze as he felt the cold steel pressed to the back of his head.

“You think I’d let you tip those other-worlders off about us?” Fury asked, his voice ice and stone. “It’s bad enough Steve went over once. I can’t let you ever go back and have them finish what they started.”

“Went over?”

Fury laughed. It was a bitter sound that rang hollow, like a gong with no one to hear it sing. “Since we’re in a sharing mood, I’ll fill you in. While you were prancing around with that urchin, Rumlow, Rogers was on a mission.”

Bucky tried to turn his head, but he just felt the gun press firmer to the back of his neck. He couldn’t outmaneuver a gun this close range. Even if he got away, Fury would be able to aim and take another shot to gun him down. He could disarm Fury. He _should_ disarm him. But the words spewing hatefully out of Fury’s mouth were more important to Bucky than Bucky’s life right now.

“Didn’t you know? Your boyfriend went on a mission to go kill your best friend. There, now I’ve shared too.”

Bucky used to think that when a person passed out, they saw smears of color or maybe felt the ground as they hit it. No, not Bucky.

When he passed out? It was like death reached up for his throat and _ripped_ it.

* * *

When Bucky woke, he was in the brig in a cell. Jack Rollins was standing in a corner of the room, his dark presence dark and looming. For half a moment, Bucky almost believed he was back with HYDRA and the real Jack Rollins. Yes, the real one… Because as far was Bucky was concerned, this place was just an illusion. Now that the veil had been pierced, there was nothing left but the pathetic tricks that these people had tried to play on Bucky’s eyes– but he saw now. He saw it for exactly what it was. A lie. A fraudulent existence.

“Where’s Brock?” Jack asked.

“Where’m I?” Bucky asked back.

“Don’t fuck with me, Barnes,” Jack growled, his Russian accent thick and menacing. “He went to find you before all this happened.”

“What’s all this?” Bucky asked as he sat up. His head was throbbing and his mouth tasted like someone had stuffed cotton balls into it.

“Fury’s got us on lockdown. No missions. No one leaves and no one enters. The last time this happened, a lot of people died. So tell me, where the fuck was the last place you saw my boyfriend?”

Despite everything. Despite Bucky’s hatred for the Jack Rollins and Brock Rumlow he knew from home. Despite how angry he was at this world and at Steve for lying, Bucky couldn’t deprive this man of the one good thing this world seemed to have. And it was ironic as fuck that the best thing this world had going for it was Brock fucking Rumlow.

“Shark tank,” Bucky answered. “He told me about the machines back to my world.”

Jack let out a long string of curses in Russian. Bucky laughed. He hadn’t heard such language in a long time.

“You realize if Steve kills him, I’ll kill you right?” Jack’s voice was smooth as marble and as calm as a man in meditation. But Bucky heard the severity of that tone.

Bucky nodded, licking at his lips. “I’d help you hold the knife.”

Jack blinked, a flicker of confusion darting across his angular face. He tilted his head to the side, watching Bucky curiously.

“I want that son of a bitch to suffer,” Bucky rasped. Tears pushed behind his eyes. His stomach rolled in on itself, threatening to spew out everything Bucky had in him. It hurt. It _physically_ hurt to be so angry at a Steve Rogers. Bucky used to get pissed to high heaven whenever Steve did stupid shit back in Brooklyn, but he’d never get like this. It was always out of love that he got so angry. This? This was a whole other level of anger and Bucky _hated_ himself for how it was all directed at Steve Rogers. It didn’t matter _which_ Steve. He loved them. And that was the worst part.

He still loved _both_ of them.

Because had Bucky been in this Steve’s shoes, he’d probably have done the same. He’d have stolen a Steve Rogers away and wrapped him up in the most comfortable blanket and told him every sweet little lie that he thought Steve would need to hear. He’d do everything to shelter the man he loved above all others and that’s exactly what Steve had done to Bucky here. Steve was just desperate to keep his love alive. He’d lost James once. It would probably kill him to lose another.

Bucky rubbed at his shoulder where metal met flesh. He leaned back against the wall, watching Jack struggle to find words but coming up with none.

The door to their cell room creaked open and the man himself– Steve Rogers– slipped in.

“Get out,” Steve began. “Please.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. Manners were an afterthought.

_‘But I still love him.’_

Jack nodded before obediently leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

Steve paced in front of the cell, taking big breaths and wringing his hands.

Bucky just watched. He was used to staying silent until others spoke. He was used to not speaking at all. Thank you very much, HYDRA, you fucking assholes.

“Can I explain? Please?” Steve finally asked, stopping and leaning his forehead against the bars. He curled his fingers around them. Bucky saw they were trembling.

Bucky didn’t answer. He just kept staring at Steve. He just kept staring at a face he still wanted to smile at him. A face that made his heart spin happily and his tongue dance excitedly in his mouth. Fuck him. Fuck him for lying! Fuck him for making Bucky _feel_ this way!

Bucky averted his eyes when he felt the tears. He scrunched in on himself, wrapping his arms protectively around his knees.

“I love you,” Steve whispered. “Please, _please_ Bucky. I love you.”

Bucky closed his eyes. He felt the tears slip down his cheeks but he couldn’t muster up the strength to brush them away.

“I lost him, Bucky. I lost him because I wasn’t smart enough to realize what was happening. I chose to ignore every warning sign. Everyone saw my strength. They saw _my_ potential but not his! I held onto James every night thinking that we were happy when he was living in _misery_.” He choked on a sob.

Bucky still didn’t look up.

“I…It’s my fault,” Steve continued. “It’s my fault. If I’d known… If I’d pulled my head outta my ass for just _one_ second, I’d’ve seen it. I could’ve done something, ya’know? Then maybe–” He gasped, swallowing down a sob.

Bucky _still_ didn’t look up. He couldn’t. He’d break if he did. He’d combust into billions of tiny glimmers of dust if he looked up. He loved this man. He loved him. He _loved him_.

_‘But he stole me from my Steve…’_

“Bucky please,” Steve implored, banging his head on the bars. “Please talk to me, baby.”

Bucky’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. Silent tears still continued to slip from his eyes.

“I need you. I fuckin’ need you so badly. You’re the only good thing in this whole damn world, Bucky. You’re the only thing worth– I didn’t realize how wrong everything was until I met you. I’ve been so wrong, Bucky. I’ve done things I ain’t proud of. I’ve hurt people I wish I didn’t. Please, Bucky. Please just look at me. _Just look at me!_ ”

Bucky did. His lips parted silent as he looked at Steve’s splotchy, tear-stained face. Steve was pushing his face into the bars so hard that his forehead was bleeding. His body was trembling like he’d been out in a blizzard. All Bucky wanted to do was hold him. Even after everything that had happened, after all the shit that this man had pulled, Bucky _still_ wanted to hold him.

“You’re a foul piece of shit. You know that, right?” Bucky asked, his voice surprisingly steady.

Steve tried to crack a smile, but it was brief and strained. He nodded, clutching onto the bars tighter.

“So I’m finally the threat Fury thought I was?” Bucky tilted his head to the side, feeling his hair brush along his collarbone. It’d gotten so long since he’d cut it last.

“It’s just a misunderstanding,” Steve explained. “We’ll have you out in no time.”

“Don’t,” Bucky said, clutching his knees together.

“What?”

“If you let me out, I’ll fight my way through everything you throw at me, to leave and go home.”

Steve whined. It was a long, strangled sound. He sounded more like a dying cow than a human being with broad shoulders and beautiful blue eyes.

“I would’ve given you _everything_ ,” Steve whispered.

Bucky took in a deep breath, nodding. “I didn’t want everything.” He met Steve’s gaze, watching the tears and the very soul of a man pour from those eyes. “I just asked for time. You took that from me. You took my _choice_ away from me once with Tony’s father and you took it away again when you lied to me. I was kidnapped, Steve. I was kidnapped and brainwashed by HYDRA and they took all my _choice_ away from me too!”

Steve clenched his jaw, swallowing.

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re no better than them.”

Steve nodded, dipping his head against the bars.

They stayed silent, nothing but the moans of the base and Steve’s sniffing to keep them company.

For every hateful word that Bucky spewed, he knew deep down that it was all a façade. He’d been lied to by Steve and now he was lying to himself. Love was a finicky thing. It didn’t just listen when Bucky wanted it to. It grew roots so deep that Bucky wasn’t sure where he could even begin digging. He’d been here a month. And in that month, he’d been given a taste of something he thought he’d never have.

He’d been given Steve’s warm mouth, his gentle hands and that beautiful chest. He’d been given a companion who didn’t just make empty promises. Bucky believed Steve would give up BLADE if Bucky asked for it. Bucky believed Steve would take control of BLADE and change it in Bucky’s image. Steve really would’ve given Bucky everything. But it wasn’t everything that Bucky wanted.

Bucky wanted one specific person. A person who looked like this Steve, but didn’t smile as easily. A person who sounded like him, but whose laughter was rare and timid. A person who looked like Steve, but carried so much sadness on his shoulders that he still appeared so fragile to Bucky.

He wanted _his_ Steve. That little guy from Brooklyn. He wanted him. Bucky would give up a lifetime of kisses and gasps between the sheets with the Steve of this world, for a lifetime of watching his Steve’s back, even if he could never touch it.

Another sob echoed into the air and Bucky looked up. Steve had dropped to the floor during their long bout of silence. He looked like a shell of a man. Bucky could reach out and barely touch and he’d shatter.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered. “I’m sorry I messed everything up. I was just– I was just so afraid.”

Bucky scooted forward, crawling over to the bars. He held his hand out for Steve, watching as the other timidly laced his fingers with Bucky’s. His hands were so cold. He felt soft. Bucky was so used to Steve feeling solid and strong that it was a surprise to realize how soft his skin was. His body healed faster than it could callous, so his hands were never rough from his sword. His skin never scarred except for the brand on his shoulder, and that was only from the agony he had willingly subjected himself to. He was _so soft_.

“I know you were,” Bucky finally said back, giving Steve’s fingers a small squeeze. “S’not your fault.”

Steve let out a bitter laugh. “It’s all my fault.”

“I don’t blame you for being desperate,” Bucky explained. “I want to. I wanna hate you, but the longer I’m in here and the longer I’ve got time to think? I can’t. I understand, Steve. But I need you to admit it was wrong.”

Steve nodded, licking at his lips before pressing them together. “I know it was. I know everything I did to you was wrong.”

Bucky sighed, giving Steve’s hand another squeeze. “I forgive you.”

“Please don’t leave me,” Steve begged. It was now, in this dark room, that Bucky finally saw Steve through all the hardships and brief moments of happiness he’d ever experienced in this world. Under all that muscle, under all the power– there was still that skinny boy he used to be. And here he finally was. It was easier to find in Steve back home, but it’d been almost impossible to see here. But now, here on this cold floor? Bucky saw the image of a frail boy clinging onto the one good thing he had left in his life. He saw his Steve.

“I love you,” Bucky whispered, pressing his head against the bars. “But you need to let me go.”

Steve let the tears fall silently as he nodded. He squeezed Bucky’s hand, his whole arm trembling with desperation. Bucky realized it was like asking the moon to leave the Earth. What purpose would it have if it didn’t have the Earth? What would the universe be if there was no Earth to guide the moon home?

“Please,” Steve began, his voice raspy and broken. “Please let me hold you. I’ll let you go after, I swear.”

“Okay,” Bucky responded quietly. He swallowed thickly, watching as the moon struggled to keep its grasp on the Earth, but it was losing and the big black universe was encroaching to gobble it up.

_‘I feel like I’m dying…’_

Steve stood up, dusting himself off. He took a few gulps of air before his face turned to stone and he was every bit the supersoldier these people feared again. He left, only to return a few minutes later with a keycard. He swiped it over the locking mechanism and the thing popped open with a screeching cry.

Bucky stepped out past the bars, licking his lips timidly. He looked up at Steve with a pinched brow, his hands hanging stupidly at his sides.

Steve just grabbed him. He wrapped those big arms around Bucky and cupped the back of his head and cried.

He cried.

And he cried.

…And he cried.

* * *

Brock was still missing. According to Jack, no one had seen him since he’d gone looking for Bucky. Even Steve had sworn up and down that he hadn’t gone looking for Brock. Fury had even curtly replied that if he’d wanted Brock dead, he’d have done it by now.

Jack was preparing to do another sweep of the base when Bucky and Steve finally decided to retire for one last night in their room together. The dark expanse of the ocean that Bucky had once found beautiful now felt claustrophobic. Every shadow that moved in those waters made him tense and he half expected to see Brock’s body floating out there, only to be eaten by sharks.

The door creaked before clicking shut, startling Bucky.

“Hey,” Steve said, setting down a plate of various fruits. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Bucky shrugged. “S’okay.”

Steve stood there, running his fingers through his hair so much he was getting the strands all matted into each other. He had longer hair than the Steve back home, but Bucky liked it. It gave him something to hold onto when they…

No, Bucky wouldn’t think about that anymore. This man, no matter how much Bucky loved him, was still a liar. He’d manipulated Bucky, had lied and avoided truths until Bucky was bribed into complacency. Bucky loved him, but that didn’t absolve Steve’s crimes. Bucky would still leave in the morning.

“God,” Steve sighed. “It’s our last night together and I can’t even think of a single thing for us to do.”

Bucky tried to smirk but it ended up as more of a twitch. He looked at the fruit platter, opting for one of the cut up starfruit. Of course Steve would bring starfruit. After nibbling on it all through that vacation, it had become a silent symbol to them of a love they’d created together.

Of a love that Bucky would violently rip from this man’s hands…again. He’d walk out of Steve’s life and he’d shatter everything Steve had worked so desperately to build up after James. Every bit of hope, every tiny glimmer that things could turn out okay– Bucky would destroy it all.

“We could just talk?” Bucky offered. “Like, what’ll you do– after?” He leaned back on the bed, flicking his ankle absent-mindedly.

Steve was still standing, staring at the fruit platter. Bucky noticed the sheen in his eyes. He was crying again. He cried so easily…

“I dunno,” Steve admitted, moving to sit at the desk. “Nothin’ feels right anymore. Took you to teach me how fucked up this whole world is.”

“So change it,” Bucky suggested. He scooted to the edge of the bed, sitting upright. “If anyone can change it, it’s you.”

Steve smirked. He scratched at his eyebrow before clearing his throat. “No. I’m part of what’s wrong with it.”

That pulled on the heartstrings in Bucky’s chest. He cupped his sternum, massaging it idly. “People change, Steve. I’ve seen you change.”

Steve just shrugged.

“You have,” Bucky pressed. “When we first met, you were so sure of this world. You loved its brutality but now? You knew Brock told me about the machines, didn’t you?”

Steve laughed. “Of course. He’s your only friend here.”

“And you didn’t go try to kill him.”

“Yeah well,” Steve deflected. “I was more worried about you.”

“You made a choice _not_ to kill him. I’m proud of you.”

Steve took a big sigh before slinking from the chair and crawling over to Bucky on his knees. He wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist, his head coming to fall into Bucky’s lap.

Bucky hesitated, watching silently as Steve clutched onto him in a silent plea. He was _still_ begging for Bucky to stay, although he’d given up on voicing it. Bucky ran his fingers through Steve’s hair, brushing his finger along the man’s ear and down his hairline. Steve shivered, but he didn’t pull away.

“You’re not all bad,” Bucky teased. “Most of you’s quite good.”

Steve grunted. It was the closest thing Bucky would get to any kind of affirmation.

“I am proud of you, Steve. This isn’t easy for you, but you respect me enough to let it happen.”

Steve sniffed.

Bucky felt his heart clench.

“If I hadn’t lied,” Steve began. His voice was so small that Bucky was genuinely shocked it was _Steve’s_ voice. “Would you be staying?”

Bucky chewed his bottom lip, watching the way the strands of hair fell back into place on Steve’s head. “No.”

Steve nodded, rubbing his face into Bucky’s thigh.

Bucky could feel the warm wetness of tears pressing into his pants. He hated himself. He was slowly destroying Steve. He was ripping open every wound that this man had struggled to sew close and the second Bucky left, he’d be a complete and utter mess again– just like he was when James died. Bucky couldn’t rationalize it with the simple ‘oh he’ll get over it’ idea. He knew that Steve would _never_ get over the loss of Bucky, not after the loss of James.

Two James Barnes’ had come into this Steve’s life and now two James Barnes’ would leave it. It was cruel, really, to destroy a man like this. In what universe did Steve really deserve so much sadness? It seemed to be the only thing reality ever gave any Steve Rogers– sadness.

Steve pressed his face flush to Bucky’s thigh, kissing it through the fabric. He squeezed his arms around Bucky’s torso tighter, but otherwise, he didn’t move.

Bucky just kept petting Steve’s hair. He stared out the window into the black ocean. He looked at the desk, the floor and the window itself. They’d made love against each of those surfaces. Real love, passionate, fiery, but honest. It was honest love. He’d never see this room again after tomorrow. He’d never see this Steve Rogers ever again.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry too,” Bucky whispered. “I’m sorry I led you on.”

“You didn’t lead me on,” Steve answered quickly.

“I dangled myself in front of you like a piece of meat before a dog,” Bucky rationalized. “I’m a piece of shit for what I did to you.”

Steve stayed quiet.

“But, I do love you.” Bucky gently removed one of Steve’s arms and brought the man’s fingers up to his face to kiss. “Please remember that, after I’m gone.”

Steve hiccupped. His hand trembled near Bucky’s face. He squeezed his arms around Bucky, burying his face into Bucky’s lap. So damn small… Why couldn’t Bucky see him for anything other than the skinny boy he used to be? So damn small.

“Always,” Steve replied, so soft it was barely inaudible.

Bucky tugged Steve up onto the bed. They folded into each other, limbs tucked up and around each other, cocooning themselves from the world around them. Bucky pressed his face to Steve’s chest, listening to that fast heartbeat. Bucky would never get to hear this beautiful music ever again. He’d try to remember its pattern, but he knew that over time, that steady _badum badum badum_ would sound just like any other heart and not _Steve’s_ heart.

Bucky closed his eyes, feeling the tears slowly trickle down his face. Tomorrow, he’d leave and go home.

Tomorrow, he’d rip this man’s heart out.

At least this world had proved one thing right– Bucky was every bit the monster he thought he was.

* * *

When Bucky woke, the spot beside him in bed was cold. He sat up, letting the blankets pool around his hips and blinked into the room. The light from outside was shining, spilling faint light into the room but other than that, Bucky had no idea what time it was.

He swung his legs over the side, seeing a bowl of fruit on the desk. He meandered over to the bowl, picking up a strawberry to nibble. He assumed it was morning. But why would Steve be gone when this was the last time he’d see Bucky?

Bucky gasped, the thought punching him harder than he’d expected. He didn’t want to go. Well, he did want to leave here, but he wanted to stay with Steve. He’d been given a small treasure here and regardless of how deep Steve’s lies went, Bucky couldn’t hate him. He refused to. He knew the argument. Steve was a liar, a manipulator and that honesty that Bucky thought was there? Well, it wasn’t really there. But that man was still Steve Rogers down to the core. Everything he did, he did for Bucky. It’s why he tried to keep Bucky ignorant of the machines to get him home. He just wanted to love Bucky. And Bucky selfishly wanted to recognize only the good in this Steve.

He sighed, grabbing the fruit bowl and going back to bed. He wondered if Steve would come back soon. Maybe the fruit was meant to tide Bucky over and they’d do one last thing together before Bucky would leave? Bucky wanted that. He didn’t want frantic sex or even soft lovemaking. He just wanted Steve’s arms around him. He wanted to cry into him and tell him that he’d always love him. That he’d always remember him. Bucky just wanted to cry.

He had to leave. Steve had lied. Bucky’s Steve was waiting. It wasn’t right to stay here anymore. Bucky had been in a dream, and now it was time to wake up. Maybe the Steve of this world could visit Bucky sometimes. If travel between the two worlds was possible, then maybe seeing each other again would be possible too.

Bucky wanted that. The faults that Steve had here, none of it deterred Bucky from wanting to try and keep him. He was, at his core and in his soul, Steven Grant Rogers. And Bucky couldn’t stop loving him even if he tried.

Bucky finished off the fruit and waited silently for around an hour. He lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and memorizing all the little details of the room. And then when his gaze settled on the corner where Steve’s sword was supposed to be– everything changed.

Bucky shot off the bed, moving to the heavy door and tried to open it. When it didn’t budge, he started banging on it with his metal arm, but all that did was send the vibrations up into his shoulder. He stood back, breathing loudly and looking around the room for anything, everything…

And there it was. On the floor was an envelope with his name on it.

 _Bucky_ –

_I’m sorry. I know you’ll hate me for this. But just hear me out._

_I couldn’t sleep a wink last night knowing that our time was coming to an end. I love you. I love you so damn much that I can’t let you go. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that he gets to have you and he doesn’t even know what he’s got! You love him so much. You’d die for him, you HAVE died for him. Well, I’d die for YOU, Bucky. It’s not fair that I’m here loving you with everything I’ve got. I’ve been fighting for you since the day you fell into my life. I’ve done everything to show you I’ll love you forever. What does he have that I don’t? He and I are the same person, right? So why can’t you love me the way you love him? This has been eating at me for so long now. I hate him. I hate him so much. You tell me how you two dance around each other and avoid your problems. I told you that you’d never have to apologize for who you are. I accept everything about you. Everything! He doesn’t. Why else is he holding back from the best thing he’s got?_

_Why am I not good enough? Tell me and I’ll change it. I’d do anything for you...except give you back. I can’t. I’ll kill myself if I don’t have you. I know that’s dramatic and insane. And you know what? I am insane. I killed James. I killed the man I loved more than myself and my soul was cursed. I did go mad. I wasn’t always the thing you’ve seen. You even pointed it out yesterday about me changing. Well the thing is, I didn’t just change… I changed back. I wasn’t always heartless._

_When I was six, there was this dog in my neighborhood. People would kick him and feed him rocks and laugh when he ate them. He was so hungry and abused and you know what I did? I marched right up to Felix, kicked him in the balls and I took that dog. I brought him home and he stayed in my room and I gave him half of every meal my ma made. I got fleas from that mutt. My ma was pissed to high heaven. But she let me keep him. I raised that dog from skin and bone into a beautiful fluffy, chunky lil thing. He lived a long life with me...till someone killed him._

_I used to do good. But being a bleeding heart was weak. I got beat up all the time for it. I was crying over a baby bird that died one day when I was ten and a man– not even one of the kids in my neighborhood, a man_ _–_ _came up to me and called me weak. He kicked my face and then my ribs._

_I saw a girl getting...well you know… I was in high school and I’m pretty sure she was actually older than me. I tried to stop it. They beat me up, tied me to a telephone post naked and made me watch as they finished off._

_I’ve got countless of stories of the good person I used to be. I played piano. I drew sketches. I carried grocery bags for women too old to carry in one trip. I used to be a good person, Bucky. But how was that received? I was abused. Insulted. My ma was attacked. My dog was murdered. I was helpless Bucky. I was helpless because I wanted to do so much and I couldn’t do ANY of it. I was so small. I was so damn small, Bucky. I became what I became because I HAD to. Kill or be killed. Only the strong survive and Bucky, I know it makes me weak but I needed to survive. So yeah, I went mad the day James died. The monster that had been sitting inside me finally fully woke up and I let it consume me. But you changed that._

_You’re kind and stronger than anyone I know. I’ll bet you could go toe to toe with Nat and give her a run for her money. You’ve shown me that kindness isn’t weakness and I want… I want to be that again, Bucky. I want to be the boy I used to be before the world chewed me up and spit me back out. Just...I don’t know how._

_I know you hate me right now. I know you’re angry and you’re probably screaming or clenching your jaw like you do when you get ticked. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. I’m sorry I find you so beautiful when you’re angry._

_I’ve gotta prove it to you. I’ve gotta prove that I’m good enough. Everything you want me to be, I’ll be it. I just can’t give you back. I know you’ll hate me. God, it hurts so much knowing you’ll hate me but I can’t lose you. Please I’m begging you. Give me a chance. Please give me a chance._

_I’ll be back in three days. Brock and Jack’ll bring you food. If you try to leave...well...please don’t try. Please. I’ll be back in three days and we can talk all this out. I’ll be 100% honest with you. Please let’s just work this out._

_I love you. I love you so much._

_Steve_

Bucky stood there, staring in numb silence. The pages slipped from his hand and fell to the floor. He didn’t feel anger. He didn’t feel sadness. He didn’t feel happiness.

It was numb acceptance. Who was he to think that this Steve wouldn’t do everything possible to keep him here? Maybe Steve was insane, but it was only aimed at Bucky in his desperation to keep him.

The memories that Steve had shared in those pages were heartbreaking. And Bucky’s mouth hung open at the sudden realization of what made his Steve different from this one.

Bucky was there to protect his Steve from all the harms this Steve had to face alone. Bucky was there to stop the punches of larger men when they tried to attack Steve. Bucky was there to stitch up his friend, kiss his wounds and hold him as he cried. Bucky had been there for that Steve.

This Steve was alone. He’d found one good thing in James. He’d allowed himself to indulge in one thing that had brought him happiness and then it had turned on him. James had never been there to protect Steve. How could a James Barnes exist without loving Steve Rogers the way Bucky did? How was it even possible?

Bucky fell to the floor, staring at the words on the spilled pages. This was the man that _his_ Steve could’ve become if they hadn’t grown up together. And maybe Bucky would’ve become the man James had been if he’d not had Steve…

“Holy shit,” Bucky breathed out. “Holy...shit…”

He closed his eyes, letting the tears fall silently onto the pages around him. He was a prisoner to a man he loved. To a man he’d failed.

A man he’d failed...

* * *

It took eight hours for HYDRA and the Avengers to come to an agreement, and the settlement left a bitter taste in Steve’s mouth. In the end, Steve had to promise not to sever the worlds’ connections and allow HYDRA to mine the other world for supplies ranging from weapons to even food. Fury had drawn the line at people. No people were to be brought unwillingly to this world. Steve was still considering that HYDRA would start requesting volunteers instead. But the deal was done, and in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t the worst deal.

HYDRA had set about fixing the machines with Hank Pym’s assistance and two days later they were all ready to go.

Steve stood in the middle of the large, humming machines. Apparently bringing over too many bodies would short the system before they could all make it, so he’d had to select a small team.

Sam, Nat, himself and Scott. They had no idea where they’d be transported to on the other side or what they’d be up against. Thus, they were decked out in all their gear with additional supplies at the ready. Thankfully, with Pym’s knowledge, they had been able to shrink a stealth jet that was stuffed to the gills with supplies in the event something went wrong or if they needed to travel.

Steve took a deep breath, staring at his feet. Finally, _finally_ after all this time. He’d get Bucky back and maybe...maybe they could finally talk to each other about how they felt. Just hash everything out from the good to the bad. Steve was ready. Maybe Bucky was too.

“Steve, you ready?” Pym’s voice came over the coms.

“As I’ll ever be,” Steve replied.

Nat squeezed Steve’s hand, offering a reassuring smile. He stared at her, nodding.

“We’ll get ‘im back,” she whispered.

The machines started making a strange screeching sound. Steve’s mouth went sweet with the taste of electricity and then there was a strange sensation of weightlessness.

He blinked back into awareness, staring at a room full of soldiers in heavy gear. They were shouting in English and holding their guns up.

Sam was already in the air, Nat was lunging at someone and Steve? He was ready. He’d fight anyone he needed to bring Bucky back home. As his shield banged into walls, crushed into bodies and snapped spinal cords, all of Steve’s thoughts were on one thing and one thing only…

Bucky.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Artist's Note:**  
>  I had some trouble deciding which scene to do for the art on this one. All the greatest moments are very internal (or in a pitch black supply closet), and that can be difficult to capture. Ultimately I went with the scene after Steve releases Bucky from the brig. The base is in a state of red alert, but the light behind Bucky also represents his internal rage, as well as a warning for what's to come. Despite all his turbulent emotions and the betrayal he feels towards Steve, Bucky STILL doesn't have the heart to ignore him when he's falling apart right in front of him. If only he could....  
> Sorry about the delay on this one. I hope it was worth the wait! I can't believe we're so close to the end. Only one more chapter. You guys are fortunate enough to be getting 2 endings for the price of one! I will be doing art for BOTH endings (as well as any epilogues that may arise).  
> If you've been enjoying my art you can check out more of my work on tumblr. Here's the link where I tag all my stuff. [Click me!](http://hopeless--geek.tumblr.com/tagged/captain-america-edit)
> 
> Don't forget to kudo if you liked it :)  
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Through The Looking Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky knows he has to make a choice. But not making a choice? That's a choice too, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! This is now complete! AHHH!!! Thank you to everyone who stuck by! Thank you to everyone pouring in support on tumblr to Hope and myself! Thank you to [nataliarushman](http://nataliarushman.tumblr.com/) for being such a great beta, friend and support system! We love you!!!  
>  
> 
> **REMEMBER THIS IS THE ROUTE WHERE NO ONE DIES! IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHO DIES, PLEASE PROCEED TO THE NEXT CHAPTER! YOU MAY READ BOTH! YOU DO NOT HAVE TO READ BOTH, BUT IT'S AN OPTION!! AGAIN THIS IS THE LIVING ROUTE!!!!!!!! TO EVEN FURTHER THE POINT, THERE IS A DOVE MADE OF SMOKE BEFORE THE LIVING ROUTE SHOWS THE LIVING ROUTE! THE DEATH ROUTE HAS A SKULL!**
> 
> Lastly, this completed fic is becoming a [physical novel](http://i1188.photobucket.com/albums/z406/akirakisho/TTLG%20Coverfinal_zpsjtdi46yf.png) with bonus material (more art and more scenes!) as well as putting the images with the respective scenes. If that is something you would be interested in, please contact Li or Hope on their tumblr!! Tumblr links are all over this fic in the author notes. haha

 

_I wanna be your last, first kiss_

_That you'll ever have_

_I wanna be your last, first kiss._

**Before**  

 **W** hen Steve woke, James was sitting up. His hair was ruffled and spiked in various directions, his face splotchy from what looked like crying, and he was obsessively wringing his fingers. Steve sat up, looking out at the ocean’s darkness before back to his husband’s face.

“Hey,” he said, voice scratchy and unused from sleep. “What’s wrong, love?”

James flinched, swallowing. He turned to Steve, a strained smile on his face.

“C’mere.” Steve pulled James into him, wrapping his arms around his lover. He ran his fingers up and down James’ skin, feeling the brand on his upper arm. He traced it idly, humming. “You don’t sleep so good anymore.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” James said. He shifted against Steve, reaching up to cup Steve’s head, and stroked his fingers through his hair. Steve was turning into warm butter from the delightful sensation.

“You know you can tell me anything.” Steve dropped his chin atop James’ head, staring out into the black ocean waters.

“I’m afraid.”

Steve closed his eyes, waiting. James spent a lot of his time living in fear. Perhaps it was the war, maybe it was their brief time as supersoldiers on the run for their lives. Either way, he’d never stopped being afraid. It had become a challenge to know what exactly was concerning him at the moment. It always changed day by day.

Steve let James continue caressing the back of his head for just a minute longer before reaching up and bringing James into his lap. “Why?” He pressed kiss after kiss to his husband’s temple.

“The serum didn’t make me as strong as you. The way people look at you and the way people look at me are two different things.”

Steve squeezed James, holding his husband’s warmth in his lap. He never wanted to let go. He wouldn’t if he had a choice. Ever since they’d received the serum, they’d been fighting. Steve sometimes thought what it’d be like to retire somewhere in the back hills of the world. They could hunt for their own food, plant a little garden and just _exist_ together. He scoffed at himself. James would never let Steve leave BLADE. There was a dark smile on those red lips whenever Steve had to show he was stronger. James was proud of him, and he _liked_ watching Steve effortlessly take out people who challenged him, or people he challenged. Sometimes James even went out of his way to challenge people _for_ Steve to take down.

“Whaddya mean?” Steve asked.

“I mean I’m always gonna have to cling to you. I’m never gonna feel safe.”

“James.” Steve sighed, turning the man around in his lap. He wrapped James’ legs around his torso, getting their bodies as close as he could. He loved James’ legs. He’d spend hours kissing them if he could, just taking the time to admire the power that rested beneath the skin. James spent his entire post-serum existence comparing himself to everyone else. He never saw how strong he was. “You don’t have to cling. You know I’d rip everyone’s heads off for you. Someone looks at you the wrong way, you just gotta tell me.”

“But that’s the problem Steve!” James bit his lip, tracing his fingers along Steve’s sternum. “I’m always gonna have to come to you. I don’t get it. You were a tiny thing when I first met you.”

Steve smiled, recalling the first time he’d met James. He’d introduced himself and James had simply sneered at him before turning to someone else. He’d made up his mind he’d win this guy over that day and he’d done it. It had been the proudest moment in Steve’s life when James had smiled at him. The first night they’d danced… The first night they’d _kissed_.

“I don’t get why it made you stronger than me. Shouldn’t we be equal?”

“We are equal, love.” Steve cupped James’ face, peering into those dark eyes so full of confusion and fear. Steve hated how James was always so afraid. It was a very specific kind of torture watching the one you loved the most and knowing you couldn’t cure their fears.  “I love you more than anything else in the world. You know that right?”

James nodded, pressing his lips to one of Steve’s palms. The act got Steve’s heart fluttering. James’ lips were softer than silk, warm and designed for kisses. Steve had to bite his lips to keep from pulling James down into the bed to kiss those pretty lips.

“And you know that I’m always gonna do everything I can for you, right?” Steve traced his fingers over James’ lips, still letting the man hold them against his face. James playfully bit at Steve’s palm, a smile curving his lips.

Steve laughed, rocking up into James. Who needed sleep when he could just make love to his husband all night? And they did usually. Night after night they’d crawl between the sheets and Steve would give everything to James. If James wanted it rough, it got rough. If he wanted it soft and slow, that’s what Steve would give. Steve didn’t have much in life, but he had a body that loved another and he’d spend every moment he could giving himself to James.

“You okay now?”

James sighed, looking over at a picture in the corner of the dark room. Their wedding picture. James stared at it for so long that Steve thought he’d not heard the question. “Yeah.” James leaned in, pressing a feather-light kiss to Steve’s mouth. “Yeah I’m good.”

“Love me,” Steve said, pressing kisses to James’ bare shoulder. “All I wanna do is love you.”

James answered by gripping Steve’s shoulder blades and scratching down his back. His grin was sly as his pupils expanded.

Steve didn’t know it would be the last night he’d ever make love to his husband. Had he known, he would’ve gone at it gentler. He would’ve taken his time and made sure James really knew just how much love Steve had to give. If only he’d known what would happen the next day.

Maybe he could’ve stopped it.

* * *

 **S** teve walked into the mess hall. James had been suspiciously absent when he’d woken and he’d been suspiciously absent throughout morning rounds and a mission debriefing. He found Natasha, sitting with Clint and Maria. “Hey, have you seen James?”

Natasha shook her head, shrugging. “He missed our weekly training session.”

“Huh?”

Natasha smiled like a shark. “He’s been asking me to train him. So I’ve shown him a few tricks.”

“We think he’s getting ready to challenge someone,” Maria said, leaning forward. “Careful, your little husband may outrank you.”

It amazed Steve that Maria said it like he’d care. James could be an admiral and Steve wouldn’t care who ranked above whom. Though, he wouldn’t deny the warmth of pride that blossomed in his veins and floated through his body. James had been nervous last night. Maybe he just needed a pep talk before he went to his challenge. Steve then jarred straight up, his eyes round. If James had gone to challenge someone, he could be on the floor hurt right now.

“I’ve gotta go,” Steve said, turning around and running for the mess hall doors. He smacked right into his husband. They both shared a moment of surprise.

Steve smiled, relief filling his heart. “You’re okay!”

James pulled out a knife.

“Heard Natasha’s been helpin’ train you?” Steve disregarded the knife in James’ hands or the way he was looking at Steve, defiant and afraid. “If you wanted to challenge someone, you shoulda told me. We could’ve trained together.”

“I didn’t want you to train me.” James’ voice was strained. He sounded like he’d been crying.

“You okay, love?” Steve reached out, but James took a step back. Steve’s skin chilled.

“I want to challenge you.”

Steve laughed. He laughed because this was his husband and the love of his life wouldn’t ask him to fight till one of them was left standing and the other was a bloody mess on the floor. They’d fought in the war together. They’d gone on the run for their lives together. They’d willingly allowed themselves to be taken in by BLADE and frozen for years before being brought out on top-secret missions. They’d gotten _married_. In what world would the love of Steve Rogers’ life _fight him_ to the death?  So he laughed.

“You sonuvabitch,” James said through gritted teeth. “You’re so smug ain’t ya? Thinkin’ I’m second best.”

“What?”

James pushed him into the mess hall.

“I challenge you,” James said again, louder so everyone in the room heard.

Steve didn’t hear it. He only heard the sounds of his heart shattering. Piece by piece, every memory he’d shared with James fell to the floor. Every smile and every soft gasp or giggle– it was stained and twisted. His love was blackened and forever cursed because in what world would James do this? He had nothing to gain from Steve except–

“Baby,” Steve whispered. “I don’t want this.” He swallowed roughly, trying to choke back tears. They’d been planning to get some time off. They were supposed to go to Africa together. This couldn’t be happening because in _what world_ would James hurt Steve so much?

They were supposed to live together, in love, till their hearts were old and their hair gray. This couldn’t happen…

“I don’t care. Get a weapon.”

Steve stood there, looking around at the expressions people wore. Brock Rumlow covered his mouth, Natasha just smiled like the lying snake she was, and even Fury was standing in a corner with an amused expression. He couldn’t undo this. Everyone would know. This couldn’t be warped into some lovers’ sparring session or even a bad fight. This was real.

And it was happening.

“Why?” Steve asked as tears blurred his vision.

James didn’t answer. “Grab a weapon.”

Steve balled up his fists, staring at them but seeing right through. This was the one person that meant anything to him. All he wanted was for this to end and for them to go back to their room and talk. “I love you. Why’re you doing this to us?!”

“Are you forfeiting your right to a weapon?” James asked. He was nervous. His body shifted back and forth and Steve could see his hand tremble around the knife.

“Yes.” Steve sobbed, tears staining his face. “I’m forfeiting my right to a weapon.” Was this the sound of the world ending? It wasn’t explosive or rumbling. There was no thunderous boom or a sheet of rain to wash them all away. It was cold silence, shifting feet and the whispers of the people around them. Had they all known? Had Steve been so oblivious that he’d missed all the warnings?

He just wanted to love James. Had that been wrong? What could Steve have done to change this? How could he have been so blind? He never wished for God to be real more than in that moment. He prayed and he prayed that this would end with them smiling through bloody teeth and kissing.

In the bottom of his heart, he knew it wouldn’t. God didn’t play favorites.

Steve nodded, signaling for the fight to officially begin. James rushed at him with a battle cry and the knife poised in his hand. Steve deflected. He didn’t feel the punches or the kicks that James tried to throw his way. He blocked them all with effortless precision. He was making a fool of James on accident. James wasn’t the best fighter, but _my God_ , could he shoot a gun. His talent had always been guns. Steve’s had always been his fists. And Steve was using those fists to block every move that James tried.

With every counter, James grew angrier and angrier. He backhanded Steve, and Steve let him. It sent him flying across the room and he skid on the floor. He contemplated just lying here and allowing James to take his life. That’s what James wanted.

How had it become like this? How’d Steve let it get here? Every night they went to sleep holding each other. Every day they woke up and their first taste was each other’s morning breath. Every shower was filled with giggles, jokes and embraces. How had this happened? When had it all become a lie?

Steve rolled as the knife came down. James meant this. He really wanted to kill Steve. Steve lurched up, getting back onto his feet. He circled James as tears clouded his vision. James knew he cried easily, which only made Steve prepared for the full-frontal attack that came at him. It was the obvious choice when his opponent thought he couldn’t see. Steve didn’t need to see to know how to fight.

Left hook, uppercut, knee to the groin. Steve took it all. He let his blood spill in the room because he felt that somehow he deserved this. James’ attacks were powerful. He wasn’t weak. Physically, he could beat almost everyone in this room, give or take a few like Natasha or Fury. He was jacked up on supersoldier serum and everyone knew it. He’d won all his challenges and boy did people ever come for him.

And maybe that was the problem. James lived in fear of the next challenge. People saw him in Steve’s shadow and they hated him for it. Envy, disrespect, the need for Steve’s approval. There were many reasons why people would challenge James and not Steve. James was– beatable. He messed up on missions or during sparring Steve would pin him over and over to the mat. People saw it. They filed it away and used it later. James always barely made it out of his challenges alive. Steve had spent countless nights stitching him up and kissing the anger off his love’s face. And now here they were…

Steve was sent fumbling when James performed a flawless roundhouse kick, slamming down his foot on Steve’s face. He felt his nose burst with blood as he found himself acquainted with the floor again.

James was breathing heavily, watching Steve for any sign of a counterattack.

Steve wanted to just lie there. Maybe death wouldn’t be so bad. He’d killed so many, what was wrong with joining them?

When James came again with a killing blow, Steve’s survival instincts kicked in. He wasn’t weaker than James. He was stronger, faster, smarter and he needed to live to help these people _survive_. James wouldn’t do that. He was selfish and out for himself. Steve believed in BLADE and he wouldn’t let this world fall to more war, even if the way he achieved it was with more killing and fear.

So Steve twisted his body and grabbed at James’ arms. Steve saw the moment flash through James’ eyes when he realized he’d lost. Those big, beautiful eyes stared back at Steve, showing his own reflection in them. He twisted James’ wrist, gritting his teeth as the knife slowly went closer and closer to James’ body.

“Why?” Steve sobbed, tears streaming.

James just clenched his jaw and released his grip. The knife plummeted into his chest. He gasped once, twice…and then fell to the floor.

Steve scrambled to scoop him into his arms. He cradled his dying lover, watching olive skin turn ghostly pale faster than Steve had ever known. He heard the whispers around them and even the clapping. This was supposed to be a joyous occasion for the victor, but not to Steve. He watched his heart, his light slowly get snuffed out. James reached out, grabbing Steve’s hand. Steve squeezed back. This was his husband. This was the reason he fought and now Steve watched with horror-filled eyes as the life slowly left James’ body.

James felt so solid in Steve’s arms. He was alive, gasping but alive. His eyes were scared and full of tears. This was the body Steve worshipped. This was the man he’d vowed to protect. He’d failed.

Even in the moment of winning, Steve lost.

“E-end of the...” James offered a weak crooked smile.  He closed his eyes and shortly after, his breathing stopped.

Steve stared at his lover’s lifeless body. A body that used to dance with his at midnight, that used to hum when James was happy or seek comfort in Steve’s arms when he was sad. There was no soul anymore, no life or energy.

“No no no no no,” Steve whispered, caressing James’ face. “Baby,  baby, no. Please…”

Steve felt warm wetness soak into his lap. Everyone leaves out what happens to a body after death. It urinates on itself. Steve was soaked in James’ blood and urine but he still wouldn’t move. He expected to wake up from this nightmare and then he could bury himself in James’ arms and press his nose against that beautiful chest. Nothing happened. James was still. Steve was itchy and sticky. Shock subsided, leaving his nerves tender and exposed to the cruelties that engulfed them.

He screamed. He screamed so violently that it was as if someone was digging their nails into the back of his throat and just _ripping_ down. He rocked back and forth, agony pushing needles into his skin. James was dead.

He’d killed James. He’d killed his husband.

Someone put their hand on his shoulder. Steve moved to immediately bring his hand down against the weak spot in the bone. He heard the crack and the shriek as he’d broken the person’s arm.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.”

Someone must’ve ushered the broken-armed person out because the room fell silent again. Steve just stroked James’ face, feeling silent tears fall from his eyes. “We were supposed to get away for a bit.” He swallowed. “You was gonna pick the place. Said Africa was nice.” He saw his tears fall against James’ skin, like James was suddenly crying and not Steve. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.”

They let him stay there until he was shivering from the wetness in his lap and the itch was unbearable. People moved around him. Dinner was served, the mess was cleaned– except where he sat with James in his arms. Heartbreak didn’t cover it. His world didn’t feel shattered. It was obliterated. He’d been ripped from reality and dropped into a living hell. His worst nightmare played out before him.

He laughed softly, tracing a finger over James’ face. It amazed Steve how the body could go from such _life_ to death so quickly. It was so fragile. Bodies were so strong and yet they could be reduced to nothing in mere seconds. He could chop up a man and a body wouldn’t even be recognizable. He could drown someone, set them aflame. Bodies were so weak.

He was weak.

He’d lost the love of his life to fear and jealousy because he was too weak to do anything about it. Perhaps he even ignored it. After all, in what world would two people who loved each other come to end like this? Steve had done something to make James need this.

Steve finally stood up, James’  body was already starting to undergo rigor mortis. He had to force the stiffening muscles to bend in his arms. The room fell silent around him, watching. He made his way to the door before turning to his commanding officer. “Tomorrow. I challenge you.” It didn’t matter that Schmidt was a good man who had noble goals.

Never again would Steve be weak. He’d be strong for both himself and James.

* * *

 **B** LADE didn’t have funerals. Steve had to fight until he was blue in the face for James’ body not to be thrown to the sharks. _Shark fodder_. That’s all anyone was. Natasha even had the audacity to ask if she could watch…

It was that day he knew she planned to challenge him one day. He’d welcome it. Part of him wondered if she hadn’t set James up in the first place. He would reach for any theory that didn’t point to the obvious.

This was James’ decision and he’d done it on his own.

Steve stood there among the gray trees. They weren’t _naturally_ this color. But the ash from the decimated surroundings collected here and painted the whole area gray. He’d laid out James body on a pier of plywood that he’d collected. He held the lighter, but he couldn’t do it. He’d already stabbed James. Hadn’t he suffered enough? He wondered if James would be upset that his body would be burned. He wondered if James was even out there somewhere. Was Hell real? Was James there? He said he was always meant for it. They all were.

“A burial ceremony and you didn’t invite me?”

Steve stiffened when he heard Tony’s voice. He’d looked over at the man– looking at the healing wounds on his face, courtesy of James. “Didn’t think you’d care.”

“I always care when someone gets special treatment.” He walked around the plywood. “They think you’re special.”

Steve didn’t answer.

“I think you’re special too. We could be _friends_. Now that he’s gone.”

Steve sneered. He wanted to throw the lighter at Tony’s stupid ugly face.

“Cap– Can I call you Cap? I mean, you’re a captain now. Heard you turned Schmidt’s face into a puree. That sounds uglier than mine. Nice little gift your late husband gave me.”

Steve licked at his lips. He’d been unnecessarily violent with Schmidt. But to get his private funeral, he had to end Schmidt’s life. Those were Fury’s orders, and Steve knew James deserved better than _shark fodder_. It was the least Steve could do for the man he’d failed.

“Look. You’re a powerful person and I’m a powerful person. We don’t have to be friends if you don’t want. We can just– ya know– help each other out.”

“With what?”

“Not now. You loved him. I hated him, but you loved him. Send ‘im off and then we’ll talk. There’s an actual restaurant about 300 miles out. Wanna go? I’ve got a jet.”

“Stop talking.” Steve moved up to the pier, biting the inside of his cheek. He didn’t want someone here on this final send off. “I’ll meet you in the jet.”

“Sure,” Tony said. “And ya’know. I may have hated him, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad for what happened. So– for what it’s worth– I’m sorry for your loss.”

Steve didn’t expect the warm that filled his heart. He turned to Tony, looking at the weeping scars on his face. His other side though, that side showed sympathy and Steve appreciated that. He nodded before turning back to James’ body.

“Bye baby. I’ll always love you.” He laughed, holding out the lighter. “Maybe next time I’ll do better.”

He tossed the lighter, watching it engulf James’ body. In the heat of the flames, Steve’s soul died. His nerves froze over, his mind calmed and his body just _began_. A life without a soul was a harrowing experience.

But Steve would endure– because that’s what he’d always done. He’d always simply just–

– _survived_.

* * *

**Now**

Steve sat back, sucking air into his bruised lungs. He looked around the room at the soldiers– he assumed they were soldiers– around them. Most were dead, some were knocked out. He looked up at the machine they’d come through. Pym and HYDRA had to get to work with fixing it now. He hoped this side didn’t fry each time.

Scott went to the controls, pulling out his little notebook that Pym gave him. They were certain communications would be severed (they were) and that meant they were on their own on this side. So Scott had instructions to go through and he and Nat were now reading through them.

“You good?” Sam asked.

Steve looked around the room again, still gasping back air. He wasn’t tired physically. There was an emotional exhaustion that was permanent in his bones. He smiled sadly at Sam. From Sam’s sympathetic expression, Steve knew he understood the true answer. Steve was never good. Not without Bucky.

“Everything’s in working condition,” Scott said as he and Nat came over. “We grab Bucky and we pray that Pym and our new biffles got the other side repaired.”

“Check to see if there’s any radio communication,” Steve instructed. “We need to find where they’ve got Bucky.”

After almost an hour of searching this base, they’d found the communication satellite and Scott was able to pretend he was one of the BLADE soldiers informing someone tried to come over and they were promptly defeated. Whoever was on the receiving end seemed to buy it but then the conversation was over before Scott could even ask where Bucky was.

“I’m sorry!” Scott said, eyebrows raised. “It’d be weird! I mean– that’s exactly what they probably think we’d say! We can’t say what they think we’re gonna say!”

“Tic Tac,” Sam said. “Stop talkin’ man.”

Scott promptly shut up.

“Okay.” Steve heaved a sigh. “We get the quinjet to full size, look over this base for any information– computers and all. We’ve got one goal here.”

“Or,” Natasha said as she walked up to one of the soldiers on the ground. “We could just wait till this guy wakes up and see if he knows something?” She shrugged, like the magnitude of her intelligence wasn’t impressive. Steve was impressed by it at least.

“Natasha,” Steve said. “Have I ever told you how amazing you are?”

She smirked.

* * *

An underwater base wasn’t exactly a surprise to Steve. The largest issue was that the ocean was large and the soldier refused to tell them what kind of defenses it had. The only thing they could do is all dress in BLADE uniforms and hope that their counterparts weren’t obviously hanging around.

“Can we shrink the quinjet again?” Sam asked as they soared over the ocean.

“Yeah, the issue is how do we get down under the water? This thing wasn’t designed for that.” Scott leaned back in his chair, idly playing with one of his shrinking disks. “More importantly, how do we get them to open up?”

“They use sub transport.” Sam was hunched over a laptop they’d taken from the other base. “We could find one of their ports and take a sub in?”

Steve sighed. His impatience was weighing against him. He didn’t know if Bucky was safe or if he was being held against his will. He only had the hopes that Bucky was still alive because of the other Steve. Anger swelled up in his stomach. The thought of that other guy made Steve’s skin burn. He was a pathetic imposter and Steve couldn’t imagine the disappointment Bucky must be feeling. There had to have been hope once when Bucky saw that guy. Steve wonders how upset Bucky was when he found out he was in another world.

“Might be easier,” Nat said. “We can’t take the quinjet underwater. It’s not like a helicarrier.” She looked to Steve for approval.

“How long’ll it take though?”

“There’s a port fifteen minutes out,” Sam said, pointing to something on the map. “Also, I’ve got direct coordinates to their main base now. We’re about three hours out.”

“Okay,” Steve said. “Let’s get a submarine.”

“I feel so Russian right now,” Natasha said. “It’s like the Cold War all over again.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You weren’t there for that.”

“Neither were you,” she said back, smirking.

“Man, a sub sounds good right now,” Scott said, rubbing his stomach. “I’m starvin’.”

“We’ll get Subway after this is all done. My treat even.” Steve clasped Scott on the shoulder.

“I’m holdin’ you to that, Cap.”

* * *

They’d maneuvered the sub into the docks relatively easily. There’d been no passwords or special instructions. Steve was nervous about getting off though. Once the people in the base saw their faces, they’d either figure they were from another world or they’d be asking questions that Steve didn’t have answers to.

Natasha was on board for pretending to be her other self. She claimed she knew exactly how to behave– which downright terrified Steve.

“Okay, we infiltrate under the pretense that we’re our other selves,” Steve said. “Don’t attack anyone unless your cover’s blown. We keep in radio contact if we have to split up. Ideally, I don’t think that’s the best idea for this mission. This place is big.” Steve looked to the schematics on Sam’s hijacked laptop. “We’ll search the brig first and then make our way to the barracks.”

“What if we do get split up?” Sam asked.

“Stay in radio contact and meet back here. Everyone ready?” Steve scanned over his friends’ faces as they nodded.

They exited the submarine, ducking their heads and trying to blend in as much as they could. There weren’t many down here, so they headed to the elevators without issue.

The brig was guarded and Steve saw no other way in than through the guards. He clenched his jaw, walking forward.

“Captain, you shaved?” one of the guards asked.

Steve’s eyes widened before he reached up and caressed his chin. “It was hot.”

The guard shrugged, relaxing. “Bucky ain’t down here no more,” the guard said. “But you know that.”

Steve swallowed, showing no sign that his heart was on the verge of giving out. “I know. I came down for uh– I needed to see–”

“Wait,” the guard said. “Who’s this guy?” He pointed to Scott.

“Oh.” Steve blinked. “That’s Scott. He’s our new–”

Natasha was already on the guard and pulling out her steel wire to strangle the other one. Once they both dropped, she shrugged, looking at Steve, Sam and Scott’s startled expressions.

“Scott doesn’t have a double here. They’ll figure it out eventually.” She shrugged.

“So barracks?” Sam asked as they about faced toward the elevators.

“Bucky was in the brig.” Steve pressed the up button. He didn’t like knowing there was endless ocean above and around them. This whole place had a dark, dingy look to it and it was cold. “I dunno if they’d just put him in the barracks.”

“Then where else? Unless he’s gettin’ executed?” Scott said lackadaisically.

Steve rounded on him, nostrils flaring.

“I mean!” Scott recoiled. “That’s just a guess! I don’t think that other Steve-guy would let that happen!”

The elevator dinged and they got on. Steve sighed, holding the door open button. They needed to devise a plan. This place was too big to just walk into and expect to find Bucky with ease. “We need to split up.”

“What? You said that wasn’t a good idea,” Sam said.

“I know, but this place is huge. Scott, you and Nat take the two floors above here. I’ll go with Sam to the barracks. If anyone figures it out, fight. Try to avoid it at all costs though.”

Natasha nodded. Scott looked like he was going to vomit.

“We need to find Bucky,” Steve reminded them. “Once we have him, I don’t care if we blow this place up to escape. Once he’s safe, we leave.”

* * *

Bucky sat across from Brock Rumlow. He’d apparently gone off hiding in Tony Stark’s lab in an incubation tube. Tony, naturally, had found him and told him Steve wasn’t out to kill him. After Jack talked to him, Brock finally came out of hiding and agreed to look after Bucky while Steve was away.

Bucky hadn’t been out of this room for three days. He wondered where Steve went and if he needed to be worried about it. He’d tried to kill Bucky’s Steve once. Was that still on his radar? At this point, it wouldn’t surprise Bucky. Steve would do anything to keep him. He clearly wasn’t above cold-blooded murder.

Bucky nibbled on an apricot, watching Brock shuffle a deck of cards. They played more cards than Bucky thought he’d ever done in his life– World War II and all.

“Is there a Peggy Carter in this world?”

“A who?”

Bucky sighed, dropping the apricot pit. “Nevermind I guess. She was a girlfriend of Steve’s.”

Brock laughed. Bucky cocked a brow in response.

“I guess it makes sense that your Steve’s straight and ours ain’t.”

Bucky’s heart squeezed. He knew that, but hearing it made his love for the man he left behind hurt more. It wasn’t like he could change Steve. People love who they love. Bucky didn’t even know he could fall for a man until this world’s Steve came around. He’d been in love with his Steve all these years though. He just hadn’t known it.

“Has this world ever cared? About being gay and shit?”

Brock dealt out the cards. “Not really. It’s been too focused on other shit to care about love.”

“But love’s important here too, right?” Bucky leaned forward. He knew some basics about this world, but not everything. Women were equal, gays were clearly just fine, private militaries commanded countries. He’d never understand how a world obsessed with power saw two men together as being okay. Maybe that was just his own conditioning. There’d always be a shame in him for loving his Steve the way he did, if he ever got back home.

From the looks of it, he’d probably never get that chance.

“It’s very important,” Brock said. “S’why we don’t got any anti-fraternization laws or shit.” He looked at his hand, probably weighing how he’d beat Bucky again.

A few soldiers marched down the hall. Bucky could hear their feet echoing. He furrowed his brow, staring at the heavy door. There had to be a lot of them if Bucky could hear them.

“You hear that?”

Brock shrugged. “Probably drills.”

Bucky scratched his nose, settling back. “When’s Steve supposed to get back? Where’d he go?”

“A mission. And he’ll be back today.”

“What mission?”

Brock put his cards down. He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “You gotta understand something, Bucky.” He looked up, his brown eyes focused. “You n’ Jack’re the only people who’ve ever treated me like a person.”

Bucky stilled.

“That’s important to me. I ain’t gonna forget it. But I can’t—I can’t betray Steve either. He’s my commanding officer. So I can’t tell you where he went, even if I wanna. And I do wanna.”

Bucky pushed his tongue into his teeth. He understood the spot Brock was in. He had to balance his personal life with his professional life. Bucky was a friend and Bucky wasn’t part of BLADE. Bucky was personal. Professional was BLADE and all it did. His relationship with Steve wasn’t because they were friends.

“I hate that everyone thinks so little of you,” Bucky whispered.

Brock shrugged. He looked over his shoulder at the door when someone started shouting. Bucky listened too. He couldn’t make the words out but they sounded frantic.

“Yeah well—I got you n’ Jack. I don’t need anyone else.”

Bucky smiled, nodding. The silver lining of staying in this world was that Brock was easily the nicest person he’d ever met. At least he’d have a friend to share his misery of this world with.

* * *

“Nat!” Steve said into the com. “Nat! Scott! Where are you guys?!”

Sam clicked his tongue, waiting. They’d managed to stay relatively unnoticed as they searched, but somewhere along the lines, more activity started happening and now they were pressed up together in a utilities closet. A gasket pressed into Steve’s back and he was pretty sure there was something wedged between Sam’s legs that was making the man shift awkwardly as he teetered over it.

“Something’s wrong,” Sam said.

“Fuck.”

“We got this.” The little room had a red glow. Steve could see the intensity of Sam’s gaze.

“If we go out there,” Steve said, “we’re gonna have to face them.”

Sam shrugged. “You’d risk anything for Bucky, right?”

“Not your life,” Steve replied quickly. “That’s not right of me.”

Sam nodded. He teetered over the piping again. “I wasn’t a big fan at first. You put the old best friend with the new best friend and of course there’s tension.”

Steve snorted out a laugh.

Sam smiled. “But he’s not bad. He’s loyal and he’s been tryin’ to be a better person. And you love him. So I’m here to get your boy back.”

Steve’s heart squeezed. He stared at Sam. His words weren’t profound or life-altering, but that wasn’t what mattered. Sam was offering his life willingly. It was his choice and Steve had no right to try to convince him otherwise.

“You know I love him?” Steve tilted his head to the side.

“Well if I didn’t, I do now,” Sam said, teasingly. “I think we all know how you feel about him. We were just waitin’ for you to catch up.”

“How kind.”

Sam shrugged. “Always, man.”

Steve leaned against the wall, gritting his teeth as the gasket pressed into him again. It was now or never. They were too deep behind enemy lines. Nat and Scott had gone unresponsive and now the only thing Steve could do was fight his way through this base. If he died, at least Bucky would know he came for him. That had to count for something.

“Let’s do this,” he said.

Together, they came out of the utilities closet, prepared to punch and kick anything that moved. What they were met with startled them. A ring of men and women with their weapons pointed at them. Steve found himself putting his hands up. He hadn’t expected this.

“I believe this is yours,” Natasha said as she shoved…Natasha to her knees.

Nat growled, but she hung her head, breathing heavily. Steve was surprised to see there was really no difference in hair style between the two Natashas.

“Sorry, Steve,” Scott said. “Turns out this Natasha is just as smart as ours.”

“Obviously smarter,” the Natasha of this world said. “My my. If it isn’t another Steve Rogers.” Her grin left ice in the pit of Steve’s stomach. “You wanna fight your way out of this one, Steve?”

The words were oddly familiar. Steve looked to his Nat. She cursed in Russian under her breath. Steve’s eyes widened as he remembered she’d said something similar to him once. They really were parallel worlds.

“It’s unfortunate you’re not half the woman I am, Natalia.” The other Natasha kicked Nat into the ground and pressed her boot down on the skull. Nat cried out, anger burning behind her pupils. She wiggled frantically but the other Natasha just laughed. There didn’t seem to be any kind of escape from her bonds. “You’ve got two choices Steve Rogers. Come with us peacefully, watch your friends die and then die yourself—quick. Or we can do this the hard way.”

Steve raised his fists, jerking his head to the side. “I can do this all day.”

Natasha smirked. She was nothing like his Nat. Her smile was wicked and cruel. There was too much death surrounding her. They may have shared faces, but they didn’t share souls. Just like Steve didn’t share the other Steve’s soul. They were different people who wore each other’s face.

“Glad you seem to think so.” She lifted her hand. “I challenge you, Steve Rogers to a fight to the death. You win, you and your friends can keep looking for your precious little Bucky.”

Steve’s heart churned. Bucky was alive. He was so close. Steve’s muscles tensed as he prepared for probably the hardest fight in his life. She didn’t need to be a supersoldier to kill him. She was fast, wicked smart and if his Nat was anything to go by, she was pinpoint deadly.

“You may have one weapon.” She stepped into the circle her soldiers had formed. They still had their guns raised.

Steve took his shield off his back. He longed for his regular uniform but it was back in the submarine. “This is the only thing I need.”

Natasha hummed in affirmation before getting into a fighting stance. Steve did the same, taking in a deep breath. He didn’t like the idea of killing her. His Nat was on the ground with a gun to her head. Her lip was busted open, but her eyes were defiant. Sam allowed himself to be cuffed and he was also held at gunpoint. Steve’s gaze found Scott again and he smirked as he saw a flash of something red in Scott’s hand.

Maybe this was all part of Nat and Scott’s plan… Nat wasn’t easily defeated and Scott even seemed too calm. If there was a distraction, then someone…small…could keep searching. They just had to figure out where Bucky was. Which meant Steve had to keep talking…

“Where is he?” Steve asked as he and Natasha charged into each other. She used her gauntlets to deflect his shield bash. He was holding back. He needed the information first.

“Your boyfriend?” Natasha hissed. She spun around and tried to kick him, but he deflected and sent her twisting in the air.

“Bucky.”

She sneered, standing up. “He’s in his room, locked up tight for his new Steve.” She grunted, cracking her neck. “He must have a tight ass for you both to be so interested.”

Anger burned in Steve’s eyes as he snarled. He wanted to rip into this woman for even speaking about Bucky like that. Steve looked to Scott who visibly relaxed. Steve knew it. It had been a trick! There was no way Nat would let herself get caught otherwise. The anger subsided. He wouldn’t break this woman—not now at least.

Steve just had to keep this battle drawn out enough to let Scott escape and find Bucky.

Right on cue, Scott disappeared. The soldiers momentarily panicked, breaking their circle and some shouting orders at each other. A few immediately scrambled. Natasha ran at Steve, jumping atop him and squeezing her thighs around his throat. She was screaming something but he couldn’t hear. Scott was off to find Bucky.

Everything was still okay.

* * *

“What did I tell you, Captain,” Fury said. His back was turned to Steve. “I knew bringing Barnes here was trouble.”

Steve’s jaw was clenched. His whole body was vibrating with a need to destroy the other Steve and his _friends_. They were an interesting bunch. As far as Steve knew, he’d never seen a Scott before in this world. Their Natasha was a disappointment. She had been so easily taken in. The guy with the wings was also an unknown to Steve.

“We kill them and move on.”

“Romanov has your doppelganger detained right now in a Challenge. I wonder if she’s training for the real you?”

Steve scoffed. It was entirely likely that that’s what she was doing. He wouldn’t let it phase him. Bucky had made it clear that he didn’t want this fight. Once Steve challenged Fury, maybe Natasha would think twice before challenging him. He just had to kill Fury first.

“I expect if their Rogers is anything like you, it’ll be a long fight and she may not be the one standing.”

Steve crossed his arms.

“You have to kill them all. Get down there and make sure they _all_ die. I don’t care how. Just make sure they’re ended.”

“And Bucky?”

Fury turned to Steve. His eyes were as blank and unreadable as ever. His body posture was relaxed, like he was chatting with an old friend about the weather. The other-worlders terrified Fury. The only reason Steve knew that was because of how fixated he was on them. The amount of secondary precautions inside the base was hard evidence too. Once Fury started up his tricks, Steve was pretty sure Bucky’s friends didn’t stand a chance in hell.

“I said all of them, didn’t I?”

Anger filled Steve’s lungs. He shifted, shaking his head. “You think I’d kill _him_? After all that’s happened?”

“You don’t have a choice!” Fury moved, lightning fast, to stand before Steve. “They’ll keep comin’ back and I won’t stand for that! They all die or you die with them. Take your pick, _Captain_.”

Steve stepped back, smirking. He’d secure Bucky’s safety and then he’d challenge Fury. It was now or never. He just had to kill the rest first.

“Sir yes sir,” Steve bitterly spat back.

Fury watched Steve leave. From his posture, it was clear he was calculating the probability of Steve actually listening. If Fury was as smart as Steve knew he was, then he’d know that Steve wouldn’t harm Bucky. There were cogs grinding in Fury’s mind and Steve prayed he’d stay ahead of them. He had to find Brock and tell him to get Bucky somewhere safe.

Along the way, his thoughts were focused on the other Steve. It had been a fool’s error to leave without killing him when Steve had the chance. Captain America was so utterly in love with Bucky. Steve saw it the moment they first met. Of course a Steve Rogers loved a Bucky Barnes. It seemed to be written in the fabric of reality. Steve had to make sure that Bucky _never_ found out that Captain America was here for him. He had to get him to safety, kill the Captain, kill Fury and then Steve could worry about the fallout. He just needed Bucky safe.

Once he reached their room, he pried the door open, startling both Bucky and Brock. “We have to move.”

“What?” Brock asked.

“What the fuck did I just say, Rumlow?! We have to _move_!” Steve grabbed Bucky’s arm but Bucky pulled back. Steve couldn’t hide the whimper that left him. How was Bucky so blind? How could he not see the love that Steve had for him? Steve was doing everything possible to secure Bucky’s happiness and safety. There was so much Steve was sacrificing for him. He’d watch BLADE burn before he let Bucky go.

“Why?” Bucky asked, his brow furrowed.

Steve sighed, reaching or Bucky’s hands. Bucky stepped back again. “Bucky—baby, please. It’s not safe.”

“What’s happening? We heard shouting.”

“There’s another faction.” Lies. More lies. Steve would hate himself tomorrow. Right now, he needed Bucky to believe him. It hurt Steve so much to see Bucky look at him with anger and apprehension. If only he could sit the man down and really explain his love. They’d have time. They’d take over BLADE and then there’d be time to maybe just let someone else take over. Bucky seemed so tired of fighting. Steve would give it all up for him. “They’re slaughtering everyone and it’s not safe. We’ve gotta move.”

“Which faction?” Brock stood up, reaching for his boots and tossing a pair at Bucky.

“I dunno,” Steve lied. “They’re wearing BLADE uniforms.” He looked to Bucky, his eyes pleading. “Please, Bucky. I need you safe. We’ll talk after, I swear.”

Bucky stood there, staring at the boots. His nostrils flared and tightened every so often. His gaze was locked on those boots. “You should know, I’ll do everything I can to escape you.” He stared defiantly at Steve.

Steve’s heart screamed inside him, but it was a sound only he could hear. There was too much tension to cry, so Steve just nodded. “I love you.”

Bucky started to put his boots on.

“Get him to Tony. He’s got a panic room. Stay there and I’ll come find you.” Steve was about to leave when Brock grabbed his wrist. He turned to Brock, teeth bared and snarling.

“Jack,” Brock said quickly. “Where’s Jack?”

Steve shrugged. “How should I know?” His anger dissipated.

“He needs to be safe too.” Brock shrunk in on himself. Steve whined. In moments like this, he hated himself. Brock was nothing but a sniveling welp, but he meant well. If Bucky hadn’t been there to teach Steve, maybe Steve would have never  noticed. But now Steve couldn’t just disregard Brock anymore. He was a person, and for that he deserved respect.

“I’ll find him,” Steve promised.

“You will?” Bucky asked, awe shimmering in his eyes.

Steve nodded. He wanted to reach out and tuck those beautiful brown strands behind Bucky’s ear, but he didn’t want to upset Bucky anymore.

Bucky swallowed loudly, shifting uncomfortably. “We’ll talk.”

Steve smiled. “Yeah.” Hearing those words, it was enough to make Steve feel like everything he was doing was going to be worth it.

Brock and Bucky made their way from the room and Steve went to go find Natasha and make sure Captain America finally breathed his last breath.

* * *

Steve was on his knees, panting. Natasha was much more brutal here than the Nat he was used to. He looked to his Nat, wiping blood from his lip. She winked. Steve wasn’t sure if he needed to get up again or not, but for some reason, he found himself hanging his head when the other Natasha charged again with a dagger at the ready. He was expecting something to happen. Nat had winked. Something was going to happen.

A metal clang echoed into the air. Steve looked up to see his Nat and the other Natasha standing before each other. There was surprise on Natasha’s face and a gleeful smirk on his Nat’s face.

“I’m not smart, huh?” She kicked Natasha square in the chest and sent her flying back.

The soldiers were rustling, their guns waving around menacingly. Steve grabbed his shield and threw it at them, aiming for the guns. Sam also sprung to action, his large wings deflecting gunfire as it hailed around them. He launched Red Wing and it promptly got him out of his cuffs before shooting at the guards.

Nat was fighting Natasha in hand-to-hand and Steve and Sam worked to disarm the soldiers that now completely fell apart from their circle.

“You bitch!” Natasha snarled as she leapt for Nat.

“Takes one to know one!”

Steve grabbed his shield, bringing it in front of him as a soldier rained fire on him. He peeked out to see Red Wing hovering over him. The guy was now dead on the floor.

“Nat had a plan?” Sam asked.

“Nat had a plan.” Together they joined their devious companion.

Natasha laughed, taking something out of her utility belt and smashing it on the floor. It was a smoke grenade. Steve, Sam and Nat all ran from the smoke, covering their faces. When it dissipated, Natasha was gone.

“You were never gonna tell me gettin’ my ass kicked was part of the plan, were you?” Steve asked as they started opening the barrack doors one by one.

“Nope!” Natasha said when she opened her door. “Scott, have you found anything yet?” she asked into the comms.

_“I’ve got visual on Barnes! He’s being transported by Brock Rumlow. And you’ve got company!”_

“Who?” Steve asked.

_“Your evil twin!”_

Steve balled his hands into fists. “So that’s how it’s gonna be.”

“Nat, get to Scott’s location. Sam, get into a room and use Red Wing to monitor her.”

“But what about–”

“I’ll be fine.” Steve said as Nat used one of Scott’s anti-shrink rounds and tossed Steve’s uniform at him. “This is personal.”

Steve ran into a room and quickly changed while Sam and Nat went as ordered. He felt a lot better in his uniform, with its armor and padding. The BLADE uniforms were little more than a shirt and a pair of slacks. He heard Red Wing soar down the long hall and then all was quiet again. When he came out, he saw his counterpart walking calmly. He was entirely alone.

“I guess it’s just you n’ me,” he said.

Steve nodded. “Guess it is.” He pressed his shoulders back, feeling the lip of his shield. He was comforted by its presence, considering the other Steve had a longsword with him that was casually draped over a shoulder.

“I won’t let you take him away from me. You didn’t hafta die, _Cap_. But you just couldn’t let it go, could you?”

Steve grinned, shrugging. “He’s my friend.”

The other Steve sneered. “You have no idea do you?”

Steve blinked.

He raised his sword, staring at his own reflection. “He’s in love with you. So much so that he won’t love me—no matter how hard I try.” His voice wavered, like a man in mourning.

Steve suddenly lost the ability to formulate words. Bucky loved him? He loved him…back? All those years of hidden feelings when they were growing up, all those stolen looks or the nights Bucky slept over and Steve felt guilty as he huddled in the corner. Bucky had loved him too?

The train… Steve’s heart coiled inward. He gasped, steadying himself. He couldn’t lose focus. He needed to stay alert for Bucky’s sake. They had a conversation that was over 70 years past due. Steve needed to make sure he’d be there to have that conversation.

The other Steve pointed his sword at Steve, his eyes deadly. “I’m going to remove you so he won’t have a choice but to stay with me.”

Steve threw his shield, watching the other Steve deflect with the sword and it came back to Steve. “You done talking yet?”

They charged at each other, sword extended, shield at the ready. The clash of metal on metal was loud and rang in Steve’s ear. His whole body vibrated at the intensity of power behind the other Steve’s swings. His hand was still trembling when he pulled back.

“Sure, I’m done talkin’.”

They charged again.

* * *

Bucky sat on the floor in Tony’s panic room. It was inside one of his cylinders and the smell of electricity hung in the air like baked sugar. He watched Brock pace the room, clearly worried about Jack. Bucky understood that fear. He felt it every time Steve left his sight when they were growing up, felt it again when Steve was on missions even _with_ Bucky. He spent more of his life worrying about Steve than he spent appreciating Steve being there. If he ever got back to him, he’d make a point of changing that. He’d appreciate every minute he got with his Steve.

“Don’t freak out,” a voice said into Bucky’s ear. He snapped his head up, looking around. “Yo! I said don’t freak out! It’s me! It’s Scott!”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open. Scott Lang? He looked at his shoulder and almost coughed he was so surprised. There he was, Ant-Man in all his tiny splendor. He waved at Bucky. Bucky looked up at Brock before casually waving back.

“Steve’s here. We’re gonna get you outta this.”

Bucky mouthed the name. _Steve_. His heart erupted into joyous celebration. His whole body felt like warm wax was caressing it. Steve was here. He’d never abandoned Bucky. He’d never given up. They found a way. Bucky was foolish to think that his Steve would just give up. They spent their lives saving each other, losing each other and saving each other again. Bucky prayed the cycle would end with this. All he wanted to do was confess how he felt and be let down. He needed to know his place, hear it from Steve himself and that’d be it. Bucky could move on, always content to watch the love of his life’s back.

“Nat and Red Wing were following us here. We’re gonna getcha out.”

“Wait,” Bucky whispered, his gaze flicking to Brock every so often. “Brock’s good.”

“I’m sorry– what?”

Bucky waited for Brock to turn around before he whispered again, “He’s a good guy. Don’t hurt him.”

“Hey Nat, I think Bucky’s lost his mind. He says Brock’s a good dude.” Bucky assumed Scott was speaking into his comms. Bucky just deadpanned at Scott.

“What’re you doin’?” Brock asked.

Before Bucky could answer, Jack and Tony came into the panic room, both out of breath.

“Jesus!” Tony exclaimed, “Mary and Joseph. You’d think we were really under attack.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “We’re not?” He shifted his shoulder back to hide Scott in a corner of the room.

“Oh oops.” Tony reached up to cover his mouth.

Brock flung himself into Jack’s arms. Jack cradled him, and for a moment, Bucky forgot about Tony’s words or Scott on his shoulder. Watching Jack and Brock, two people from this brutal world who loved each other so much. It brought a smile to his face. He hoped that no matter what happened, that these two would make it through everything. He wanted to them to live long lives, get married and maybe have kids or whatever the people of this world did. He wanted them to keep going.

“You okay?” Jack asked, cupping Brock’s face.

Brock nodded, leaning forward. Jack kissed his forehead.

“Bucky,” Scott whispered. “We’ve gotta get you out and that’s a lot of people.”

Bucky leaned his head back, looking around. Tony and Jack were clearly the bigger threats, but Brock was still a muscular guy. If Scott and Bucky worked together, they could probably get out, but Bucky didn’t want to hurt Jack and Brock. He _liked_ them. He didn’t really care one way or the other about Tony. He didn’t care much for the Tony of his world either.

“Ya got a plan?” Scott asked.

Bucky stood up, carefully plucking up Scott and holding him in his metal hand. “Steve’s here,” Bucky said.

Jack, Brock and Tony all looked at him quizzically.

“I mean—my Steve. _My_ Steve’s here.” He searched their faces. Jack and Tony didn’t look surprised, but Brock did.

“Yeah,” Tony finally said, “we know.”

“What?” Brock exclaimed. “Why ain’t we lettin’ Bucky go?”

“Fury.” Tony leaned against the wall, resting a foot against it. “Fury hates other-worlders.”

Bucky swallowed, anticipation tingling his fingers. If he could convince Brock, maybe Jack would let him go too. Jack seemed to follow whatever Brock wanted. Tony was the wildcard.

“Brock,” Bucky said, “you gotta let me go.”

Brock shifted, fidgeting with his fingers. Jack wrapped an arm around him.

“This’ll be over if you just let me go.” Bucky’s heartbeat spiked. He didn’t want to hurt them. They’d done nothing wrong to him. Jack and Brock had been the best things he had here. If it hadn’t been for them, Bucky wasn’t sure he’d have been so complacent while he figured everything out.

“We can’t,” Jack said. “He’ll kill Brock.”

Tony remained silent, watching with his gruesome face.

“But _my_ Steve is here. What if they kill him?” Bucky’s voice cracked. He crossed his arms, still holding Scott in his hand. “Please, let me go.”

“Listen, that’s not gonna–”

Brock opened the door, stepping back.

“Brock!” Jack exclaimed.

“It ain’t right!” Brock said, panic clear in his features. He was sweating lightly, his chest heaving. “That’s Bucky’s home. The captain stole him from it. It ain’t right we get to keep him. He’s not a prisoner.” He swallowed, looking at Bucky. “He’s my friend.”

Bucky’s face drowned with bittersweet emotions. He was sad that this Brock hadn’t lived in his world. He’d have probably never met him, or maybe somehow the world would’ve shaped him just like the asswhipe Brock Rumlow became there. He nodded, clasping Brock on the shoulder.

“Cap’s gonna kill you,” Tony sang. “Better get your last kisses in, Jack-o.”

Jack glared.

“Will you be okay?” Bucky asked, hovering in front of the door. He was so close. He was _so close_ to finally going home. He wasn’t sure what would happen when he saw his Steve, but he was pretty sure there was a long hug due somewhere. He could get that at least– before telling Steve how he really felt. Before the rejection.

“We’ll be good,” Brock said, shrugging.

“I meant you.”

Brock looked momentarily startled. He looked at Jack and Tony and then back to Bucky. Offering a smile, he nodded. It was uncertain, the kind laced with too much fear than happiness, but it was a smile. Bucky knew that if all else failed, at least Brock had Jack to protect him.

“You’re a good friend, Brock.” Bucky turned to leave, jogging away.

“You too!” Brock called after.

So close… Bucky thought as he jabbed his finger again and again at the elevator button. He was so damn close.

He almost forgot about Scott when a man emerged next to him. Scott pulled off his helmet and waved. “Nat and Red Wing are on the third floor waiting for us.”

“Where’s Sam?”

“Operating Red Wing somewhere. I don’t really ask questions.”

Bucky narrowed his gaze. “Steve’s fighting Steve, isn’t he?”

Scott couldn’t hide the surprise and guilt even if he tried. He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking around. “You know, I’m surprised this place isn’t crawling with soldiers.”

“This is Tony’s floor. They’re above.” Bucky looked ahead. “Where’s Steve?”

“Fifth floor. He wanted to fight the other guy alone.”

Bucky closed his eyes. Either way, Bucky would lose someone he loved deeply. If Steve from this world died, he’d lose the first man he ever kissed and meant it. If he lost Steve— _his_ Steve, he’d lose his soulmate. Either way, he was going to lose someone.

The door opened, but instead of an empty cabin, Natasha and Clint had who Bucky assumed was his Natasha in a death grip with a gun pointed to her head and Red Wing was an obliterated mess in the corner, still sparking.

“Get on,” she said. “This’ll all be over once we _murder_ you.” She was staring directly at Bucky.

Bucky glared at them, challenging whatever putrid malice he had left to spare from his hatred of HYDRA. His fists balled up. He was planning to fight. His shoulders barely moved when he heard a _thwick_ behind him, followed by another.

He turned to see Jack behind him, holding a tranquilizer gun. “They won’t be a problem anymore.” Clint and Natasha both dropped.

Bucky blinked. Scott rushed to their Natasha, working fast to untie her. “Was that part of your plan too?” he asked.

Natasha winced, wiping the blood from her face. “Not exactly. Their Clint’s a lot smarter than ours.”

Bucky turned back to Jack with a raised eyebrow.

Jack shrugged, cocking the tranquilizer again. “Brock thinks you’re worth saving. Tony’s hacking the computer systems. He’ll seal some of the doors to prevent BLADE from catching you all. He’ll also help get you to Steve faster.”

 _“Uh, I hate to be a bearer of bad news_ ,” Tony’s disembodied voice came. Bucky assumed there was a speaker embedded into the wall somewhere. _“But someone else is also trying to hack the doors to funnel BLADE to where the captains are fighting. I’ll do my best to work against them.”_

Bucky looked to Scott. They shared an understanding nod and then Natasha hit the elevator button. Bucky hopped into the elevator, shouting a thank you to Jack as the doors closed. This wasn’t his fight. Bucky wanted Jack to stay with Brock in case anything went badly. Bucky wouldn’t hold it past BLADE to turn on their own during such a moment of chaos and confusion.

“You Avengers really know how to startle a bunch of soldiers.” Bucky leaned against the elevator door, feeling the vibrations as it went up.

“You’re an Avenger too, Bucky,” Natasha said, offering a soft smile.

Bucky scrunched up his nose. He’d never considered himself an _Avenger_. He merely tagged along with Steve. His presence had fractured the Avengers. Tony and Steve had fought—over Bucky of all people. The world didn’t trust him. He wasn’t good enough to be an Avenger. He was just Captain America’s dark past.

They filtered into the hallway, Bucky tensing when he saw a group of soldiers running their way. The doors slammed on them. He looked up in the room, mouthing a thank you. The Tony Stark of this world wasn’t _that_ bad, he guessed.

“This way!” Natasha shouted as she grabbed Bucky’s arm and the three took off running. “We need to find Sam!”

“Sam, where are you, man?” Scott said over the comms.

“Uh, guys?” Bucky said as they all stumbled to a stop. They’d filtered themselves into a hallway full of BLADE soldiers.

“Damn it,” Natasha cursed. As the soldiers started their way, she shoved Bucky back through one of the ducts. “Tony! Seal him in!”

The duct shut. Bucky banged on the door, frantic to help his companions. He heard the sounds of guns, groans and the distinct snap of flesh and bone.

_“Head northwest, Barnes! I can’t keep that door locked forever! Remember I’m also dealing with shit!”_

Bucky growled, turning in the direction Tony instructed. He crawled through the air ducts, feeling clammy as the heat pumped around him. All this heat and yet the base still always felt cold.

_“Turn left.”_

Bucky did.

_“At the intersection, go straight.”_

“How far away am I?” He had been so caught up in what was happening that he really hadn’t stopped to think what he’d do once he saw Steve. The Steve he’d fallen in love with was fighting the Steve he always loved. How was he supposed to act with that? They were trying to kill each other and Bucky had to make a choice…

_“Turn left and then exit the ducts. I’ve sealed the doors so no one should get to you. Head straight down the hallway and turn right when you see a green flashing light. You’ll hear them from there.”_

Bucky scrambled out of the ducts, popping his shoulders and neck as he crawled on the floor. He stood up, startled to see a man with brown eyes and disheveled black hair.

_“Oh yeah, I brought backup.”_

“Brock, this isn’t your fight.”

Brock shrugged. “Jack’s helpin’ Tony find the other guy messin’ with the doors and shit. I said I wanted to help you.”

Bucky’s face softened, a smile tickling the corner of his lips.

“C’mon,” Brock said, grabbing Bucky’s wrist. They heard the sounds, turning the corner at the green flashing light. Bucky’s heart lurched into his throat when he saw them. His Steve, clean-shaven and bruised. His _other_ Steve, furious and sweaty. His body tingled anxiously. He wanted to scream for them to stop. They were fighting _because of_ him. Every cut that they suffered, every bone that was breaking—it was because of Bucky.

And Bucky thought he couldn’t hate himself any more. He’d been wrong.

“STOP!” Bucky screamed, his voice cracking.

They flinched, his Steve stepping back. The other Steve used that to his advantage and drilled his sword forward. Bucky watched in horror as his Steve, his Captain and his best friend—spun sideways, grabbing the sword with his fingers and yanked. Bucky screamed as he saw blood. He didn’t want this. They were fighting over someone not _worth_ this. _He_ wasn’t worth it! He was a murderer, a liar and a user. In his selfish confusion, he’d allowed the Steve of this world to love him and he fell in love too. But he never thought he’d stay, did he? He always thought he’d go back? It wasn’t fair to them. They were both beautiful, both so worthy of the respect and admiration of the world and Bucky was the shadow that stained both of them. He couldn’t let them beat each other over him anymore.

His Steve slid through into another hallway and the doors slammed shut, blocking him.

“Steve!” Bucky shouted, his eyes round.

The Steve of this world, turned then. He blinked a few times, looking between Brock and Bucky. His beard was stained with streaks of blood, his shirt was torn and Bucky could see wounds sparkling with fresh blood. His eyes made Bucky weak. There was so much love there. He didn’t look menacing—only desperate. He was a lion backed into a corner and this is how he reacted when provoked.

“I thought I told you to keep him in the panic room, Brock.” Steve spoke with meticulous indifference, but there was anger brewing there.

Brock shifted. He bounced on the balls of his feet. “I’m done takin’ orders from you. Bucky doesn’t belong to you!”

Steve’s eyes widened. “You challenging me?”

“Steve—no!” Bucky exclaimed, stepping in front of Brock.

“Out of my way, Bucky,” Steve growled, picking up his sword and walking toward them.

Bucky planted himself in front of Brock, his jaw clenched tight. He wouldn’t let this man die. This world would fall to ruin if Brock wasn’t there to give it soft color.

Steve stood in front of Bucky, his eyes searching for something. He bit his lip, eyes welling up with tears. “Why’re you doing this?” His voice was innocent, wavering. His emotions slipped into each syllable and Bucky found his heart yearning to fold into him.

“He came for me,” Bucky said. “I’ll always follow him.”

Steve bit his lip again, this time breaking the skin. Blood pooled around his teeth until he finally let his mouth drop into a quiet gasp. “I loved you.”

Bucky nodded, feeling his heart slice into ribbons that spilled to the blackened pits of his soul. “I know.”

Steve moved quickly. Bucky hadn’t been expecting it. Some part of him thought that through all of this, that he could reach Steve and pull out that little boy who saved dogs from cruel children, or helped old ladies with their groceries. Bucky looked up, anger burning in his eyes. He’d been wrong. That boy had died long ago. He’d died, strung up on a lamp post as he listened to the screams of a woman raped. He’d died _long_ before James did. Maybe that’s why James turned on him. Steve hadn’t been a good person in a _long_ time.

Bucky heard a gurgled choke behind him. He stared at Steve’s impassive face, so close to his own. He turned and saw the sword in Brock’s belly. He was trembling, coughing back air. Steve pulled the sword back, blood dripping. Brock fell to the floor.

“You’re a monster,” Bucky hissed.

Steve tilted his head. There was no remorse on that face. It was almost unreadable except for the screaming heartbreak that was suffering in those eyes. “I never said I wasn’t.” He took a step back, swinging his sword onto his shoulder.

Bucky turned as Brock’s gurgles got louder. He heard the hisses of doors opening and closing. He scooped Brock into his arms, searching that paling face for any sign that he’d pull through this. Guilt ravaged Bucky’s skin, making him clammy and dense. This was his fault. He’d made excuses for Steve. He rationalized that there was goodness when there was clearly none. Steve was hardened by this world and the monster lived where the boy died.

“H-hold on,” Bucky said, grabbing Brock’s hand. He tore at his shirt, using it to put pressure on the wound. “Hold on, okay? Brock! Brock, hold on!”

Brock’s eyes were fluttering open and closed. He was mumbling but the words made no sense. Panic filled Bucky. Another life on his list. Stolen and ripped from existence because Bucky was too selfish to die. He could have spared this. He knew he could have—somehow. He should’ve been paying attention to the man he was protecting over the man that he couldn’t figure out why he _still_ loved so much.

Steve was gone, most likely in search of Bucky’s Steve. Would this be his life if his Steve died? Would he be a caged bird in a world full of monsters? It was a living hell. Bucky didn’t think he deserved much better. Retribution was a far off notion. Punishment was his only reward.

 _“Jack’s incoming.”_ Tony’s voice again. _“I’m working on getting the doors open but this other guy’s damn good.”_

Bucky just stroked Brock’s hair, tears warming his face. Brock was so pale, mumbling strings of syllables like they meant something. He held his blood-soaked shirt to Brock’s body, sucking back air. He couldn’t save Brock. There was one person left alive on this godforsaken base that he _could_ save. As Jack ran into the hall, Bucky grit his teeth. He’d kill the Steve of this world.

He’d kill him before he watched his lifelong best friend die.

* * *

Running hurt when every gasp of air was a negotiation. Bucky’s body wanted to die. It deserved as much. He’d poisoned this world and his own. He willed his legs to keep running as Tony led him to his Steve. Natasha and Scott were searching for the other soldier hacking into the systems and Sam was still MIA as far as Bucky knew. Bucky kept running. He kept running until he saw a flash of blond hair and a body running for his own.

They crashed into each other, Bucky’s legs swinging up and wrapping around Steve. _His_ Steve. Tears drowned his eyes, sobs echoing in his ears. _His Steve, his Steve, his Steve, his Steve_.

“Bucky!”

Bucky squeezed harder, choking on the sobs that were wrecking his rib cage. He squeezed Steve, cupping his head, burying his face against Steve’s neck. He kept squeezing. Steve’s arms were laced tight around him, his face pressed into Bucky’s neck, and his breath was hot. He was warm, he was alive and he was _here_.

“Steve.” Bucky’s voice was wrecked. His heart had never beat so hard against his chest. It hurt. Everything hurt so much because this was exactly where he wanted to be. This was the man he was meant to love. It didn’t matter how Steve felt toward him, Bucky would _always_ love him, protect him and be there for him. That was Bucky’s promise.

Steve’s limbs started shaking, sniffing and shaky breaths coming from him. He squeezed Bucky harder, tears wetting Bucky’s face. “I never stopped looking.”

Bucky smiled into Steve’s neck. It would be so easy to kiss him. His lips were already there, they already touched the pulse point of Steve’s throat. It could even be seen as an accident or a friend just kissing a friend. It wasn’t like they hadn’t kissed each other’s cheeks growing up.

“God—Bucky,” Steve choked out.

Bucky squeezed his legs tighter around Steve, clinging to him like the universe would swallow him up otherwise. He stroked his fingers through Steve’s hair. This was the right man. It didn’t matter if it was the wrong love. This was the _right_ man.

 _“Uh_ — _guys, we figured out who the hacker was!"_ Tony’s voice.

Bucky leaned back, looking around the hallway.

_“Fury. He’s coming! He’s incapacitated your friend with the wings and he’s coming!”_

Bucky slid from Steve’s body, whining. “We have to run.”

Steve grabbed Bucky’s forearm. His face was pinched, just like it always got when he was determined. “He’ll just keep coming for you.”

Bucky nodded. “I can take it.” Bucky tried to move away.

“Bucky! We can’t let this world keep that link to ours. We have to destroy it for good.”

Bucky wasn’t expecting the pain that pressed into his body like needles. Without that link, he’d never see the Steve of this world again. That rugged beard, those intense eyes—it’d all be lost to him. He hadn’t been prepared to feel the anguish that crushed the air from his lungs. Steve was a monster—but so was Bucky.

But if the link was destroyed, then Bucky didn’t have to resolve himself to murdering a man he loved. Steve had killed an innocent man for helping Bucky. He’d killed Jack’s lover.  Would Bucky be a monster for killing an equally terrifying force?

“Well, well,” Fury’s voice echoed into the room. “This is what I meant.”

Steve stood in front of Bucky, his fists at the ready.

Fury walked into the room like a bird of prey.  No one got to be a leader in a world this brutal without exceptional ferocity.

“You _other-worlders_ come here, poison my people’s minds and suddenly they’re turning against us. Stark. Rollins. Rumlow. That’s how it started back before the war. My grandfather watched it all happen.”

Steve pressed himself back into Bucky. Bucky reached out, linking his hand with Steve’s. Steve squeezed their hands together. Bucky was momentarily dazed at how intimate this was between them. Did Steve? Did he perhaps…

Fury dropped his overcoat, exposing a solid body, guns and knives on a utility belt and held up his arm. “You’ve got three seconds to surrender. We’ll kill you quickly if you do.”

Steve shook his head. “We just want to leave and sever the connections of our worlds. We’ll be no threat to you anymore.”

“Three,” Fury began counting.

“We’re not a threat!” Steve exclaimed.

“Two.”

Steve took his shield off, throwing it at Fury who promptly caught it and cast it aside. He charged at Steve, hitting a button on his wrist and the wall suddenly moved out toward Bucky and wrapped around him. It hissed and groaned as the bolts and cogs moved to wrap him in a cocoon. He was flailing wildly, blinded by the darkness. Fury was obsessed with his fears, of course he’d implement traps into the base itself. Bucky threw himself into the wall, using his metal arm to bang and bang. He couldn’t hear Steve or Fury outside. It was too dark to even see his nose.

The walls started squeezing, and Bucky found himself on the defensive instead of offensive. He pushed his feet and arms into the walls, groaning as he worked to keep them from squeezing in any more.

The plating slid back and he could see the hallway again. His body was locked inside the restraining wall. Steve was in one of the same holdings as Bucky. His shield was embedded into another part of the wall. Horror filled Bucky’s body, chilling his blood to ice when he saw the other Steve. He was standing next to Fury, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Kill them,” Fury said. “I’m going to deal with _Stark_.”

Bucky’s Steve was released from the restraints and rolled to get his shield. The other Steve charged with his sword. His punches were harder than Bucky had ever witnessed. His kicks more deadly and that sword—it was more powerful than Bucky had given it credit for.

Steve fell beneath the sword, using his shield to protect himself. A crack echoed into the air and absolute shock filled his features.

“STEVE!” Bucky screamed. His shield… it cracked. Bucky started to fight wildly against his restraints. His arm whirred loudly. He could feel it heating up as he struggled. Anger boiled inside, watching the Steve of this world beat down on the man he grew up with. Steve—who didn’t like bullies, Steve—who was so little and yet came to the aid of anyone in need. He was being bullied, being picked on by a version of himself that could _have been him_. Bucky had never let it happen. Bucky saw the goodness in Steve. He uplifted it, praised it, and worshipped it. He reminded Steve of all the good he was, of all the goodness he had to offer, and that he should never _stop_ offering. He was meant for greater things. Bucky never stopped reminding his Steve that. Then it came true and Bucky wasn’t needed anymore. And that was okay. Steve didn’t need Bucky anymore, but Bucky needed Steve to remind him that _Bucky_ was meant for greater things. He had a debt he owed his world and he needed Steve to guide him to repay it.

It didn’t matter that Bucky was marred with evils. It didn’t matter that his past was murky with murder and atrocity. He got to protect the light of _his_ world. He’d protect that light with everything he had—Winter Soldier and all.  

Bucky burst from his restraints, heaving.

 

 

 

The other Steve was standing above Bucky’s Steve, beating down with half of the shield against Steve’s face. In that moment, Bucky’s anger changed from boiled malice to chilled fear.

Killing the other Steve was the only answer, but Bucky couldn’t bring himself to fight him. He hailed down on Bucky’s Steve with a ferocity that gods dreamed of. It was the brutality of a monster forged in hell and Bucky couldn’t fight that—especially if _his_ Steve was losing.

“I’ll stay!” Bucky wailed. “Please just stop hurting him! I’ll stay!”

Steve froze, turning. His face was drained of the animalistic hatred he’d had moments before. Relief flooded those features, softening him. He stepped back, letting the other man drop to the floor and cough up blood.

“You will?” His voice was husky and it made Bucky shiver. He could remember that voice, pressed against his ear as they made love. This wasn’t kind—this lie. Natasha would be proud, but Bucky wasn’t. He continued to find levels of hatred for himself that he previously thought didn’t exist.

“Yes. Just let him go. We can destroy the transporters and I’ll stay.” He moved hesitantly toward Steve, his hands out in an attempt to show he wasn’t a threat.

Steve nodded, looking down at Bucky’s Steve. He crossed the hall to Bucky, coiling his arms around the man for a tight hug. “All I ever wanted was you.”

Bucky delicately snaked a throwing knife out of Steve’s belt. “I know, baby. I’m so sorry.”

Steve hugged him tighter. “I love you. I love you so much it makes me crazy.”

Bucky looked to his Steve. At first, he was horrified—betrayal and agony painted into his straining features. Then he saw the knife. His bloodied mouth dropped open. He said nothing.

Bucky swallowed, holding this Steve close to him. Liar. Murderer. Manipulator. Brutal. Unashamed. Strong. Loving. Loyal. Understanding. This man was a man Bucky loved, but he wasn’t the man Bucky could be with.

The doors hissed as Bucky lined up the knife. Sam, Nat, Scott, and Jack came in, hauling a living and upright Brock Rumlow. Sam was leaning against Nat, his face swollen. Scott and Jack had Brock.

Bucky dropped the knife. It clattered loudly on the floor and his body reacted violently, snapping pin straight. Steve turned, seeing the knife and then turned back, realization surprisingly void from his face. Bucky covered his mouth, tears streaming. “I can’t do it.”

“Why not?” Steve asked, quietly.

Bucky stared at him, his jaw quivering. “Y-you knew?”

Steve nodded, offering a tentative smile.

“You were—you were gonna let me?”

Steve nodded again, tears slipping from his eyes. “I can’t live without you. I’ve done unforgivable things, Bucky. I don’t deserve you. I don’t even deserve this place anymore. I made sure I wouldn’t kill Brock—but I wanted to make you—make you angry.”

Bucky was trembling. He clenched his hands against his chest. “Why?”

“I killed him. Isn’t it only right that he kills me?”

No, Bucky wanted to shout. It wasn’t right. Steve had injured someone, he used Brock to _once again_ manipulate Bucky, but it wasn’t the kind of manipulation that pulled anger. It pulled understanding. Bucky knew the pain Steve faced. He felt that guilt clench at his throat every night and sometimes he just wished it’d rip his throat out. Steve felt the same. They were kindred spirits in their brutality—their operations on the outskirts of morality. Steve was so similar to Bucky. It wasn’t right that Bucky got to take his life when he got to live. It wasn’t right that Steve—a man who clearly sought redemption—didn’t get it. Bucky wanted redemption. It was right to allow Steve that chance too. Bucky knew the man he could become. Bucky grew up with that man. This Steve had that goodness in him too. Bucky wouldn’t be the one to snuff that out.

Steve, the one on the floor, hauled himself up. He wiped blood on his uniform, walking unsteadily to the other Steve and Bucky. “We don’t have to kill you.”

Bucky watched as his beautiful monster recoiled, conflict waging war on his face. “I can’t lose him.” His tone pulled tears from Bucky’s eyes. “I can’t lose him again.”

“M-maybe,” Bucky ventured, looking at his Steve. “Maybe you don’t have to.” Steve’s brow furrowed. It was enough to make Bucky proceed with caution. “We can’t stay here, but maybe—maybe he could come with us?”

Both Steves’ eyes widened.

“No,” his Steve said. “We close the link and that’s it. It’s not safe—”

“I love him,” Bucky admitted, still trembling. He grabbed the other Steve’s hand, pulling it to hold against his chest. “I love him.”

His Steve, stared in a way that Bucky hadn’t expected. It was as if someone pulled Steve’s soul out and inverted it. His skin didn’t sit right on his skin, his face was slack as surprise and horror battled beneath the surface. “In love? You’re—you’re _in_ love?”

Bucky nodded.

Steve opened his mouth again, but promptly closed it.  He looked between the other Steve and Bucky, then nodded. “Fine. If that’s who you want.” Then he moved to rejoin the others.

Bucky stared off after him, his mouth hanging open. Steve’s words had been strange. _Who you want_. It was like a slap to the face. Maybe Steve was disgusted with him. Bucky couldn’t blame him, really. This man wore his face. Steve probably thought it sick—that Bucky was sick.

Bucky sucked back a sharp gasp, dropping his face against his other Steve’s body. Maybe he’d gotten it all wrong. This had been his Steve all along. Thick arms wrapped around him. Swollen lips pressed to his temple. He cried. No one had to die. Brock was alive.

Why was Bucky so sad?

* * *

They left the base knowing that Jack Rollins had knocked out Nick Fury. He, like Bucky, didn’t believe in killing people during challenges. Bucky once mistook his silence about it for complacency, but Jack had never been complacent. He’d been quietly waiting for a chance to seize power and reform BLADE. They’d given him that opportunity. They left them, Brock and Jack, knowing that BLADE would be a force of change in their dark world. It probably wouldn’t stop the way things were, but Bucky had hope that it would set the stones in motion.

The quinjet ride was quiet. Sam was on a bed, asleep. Scott and Natasha were playing cards, every so often watching Steve brood in the pilot seat.

Bucky was curled up with a blanket around both him and…his Steve. He needed to find a way to differentiate their names. He didn’t dare resort to calling his childhood best friend Stevie again. There was too much anger in his face to use such beloved nicknames. Maybe he could start calling…his Steve… that. His beautiful monster.

Bucky hadn’t killed anyone. He saved both of their lives but Bucky still felt like he’d lost. He was in the arms of a man he wanted, but not the one he needed. He kept stealing looks at the other Steve—clean shaven, clenched jawed. He was so lost in thought that Bucky wasn’t sure anyone could reach him.

“You’re upset.” It was the softest whisper, but Bucky startled all the same. He turned in Steve’s arms, looking at that slightly auburn beard. He’d gotten what he wanted– both of them. But it didn’t feel right. “I love you, you know.”

Bucky couldn’t find the words. They felt like cheating. He looked back over to Steve in the pilot’s chair. He was still looking out the window like someone had died. It was obvious disappointment, Bucky knew. Steve was disappointed in him. Bucky always found a way to let Steve down.

Steve wrapped his arms tighter around Bucky. He buried his face into Bucky’s neck and breathed deep. Bucky found his fingers running through Steve’s hair, but his thoughts weren’t here. They were adrift with the man in the pilot’s chair—with that disappointed face.

* * *

“When’re the machines gonna work?” Scott asked, poking one. “Like—do we call them or…?”

Bucky looked to his captain (he wasn’t his lover, so maybe calling him Cap or captain was good, he wasn’t sure yet). He was staring at the machines, then looked to Bucky. Bucky’s heart stopped. He wanted to dump every confession out—spill his heart and damn the consequences. His hand was warm, however, and it was because another man held it.

“We hole up and wait. Keep trying every fifteen minutes.” Steve sat down at one of the control panels. “S’not like there’s anything else we can do.”

“What about that deal we made,” Sam said with his arms crossed.

“Deal? What deal?” Steve, _Bucky’s Steve_ , squeezed his hand tighter.

Cap (no, Bucky hated calling him that), _Steve_ stared at Sam for a long while, then finally looked over to Bucky and Steve. He stared at their locked hands. “I made a promise to leave them open.”

“That’s okay, right? I mean, Jack and Brock’re in charge now. It’d be nice to know they can reach us for help.” Bucky shrugged..

“No,” his lover said. His brow furrowed, he stared at the other Steve, anger dancing behind bright blue eyes. “Fury was obsessed with these machines. They’re a last resort in case this world needs to start poachin’ someone else. You can’t leave them open.”

“But he’s not in charge anymore.” Scott sat next to Sam, putting his hands on his hips. “I mean, Brock n’ Jack are supposed to be good guys, right?”

“But Fury ain’t dead,” he responded with a shrug. “He was terrified of someone comin’ over and changin’ shit. But he needed them open in case we ran out of food or other supplies. A necessary evil, he called it.”

Scott snorted. “He wasn’t technically wrong. We did fuck up shit.”

Bucky shot Scott a deadly glare. “Why do you want them closed?” He looked at his beautiful monster, scanning his gaze over that soft auburn beard, those tired eyes. He looked so tired. Moreso than the man sitting by the controls who looked _just_ like him.

“Because.” He swallowed. “If this world can’t survive without poaching others, then maybe it don’t deserve to live.”

Steve, the one sitting at the controls, snorted. Bucky also picked up on the irony. He held the hand of a man from this world, a man who was, in a sense, _poaching_ Bucky. From the way he was staring at Bucky and gripping tightly around Bucky’s hand, the irony wasn’t lost on him either. He made it clear that he needed Bucky to survive. He’d lost James already. Bucky wasn’t from _his_ world. It was poaching. But _God,_ it was the kind of poaching that Bucky needed like water on dry, salty lips.

“I’m game with double crossing our necessary evil,” Sam said. “I don’t think a single person here would be offended.”

Natasha nodded, her hands casually behind her back.

Steve sighed, running his fingers over the control panel. He looked up, flicking his gaze between Bucky and his doppelganger, eyes heavy with fatigue, confusion and something darker; something Bucky couldn’t quite figure out. “Then let’s destroy them. I don’t really give a shit.”

Bucky bit his lip, watching as Steve turned into himself, coiling up the way he used to before the war. Anger radiated off those shoulders, like heat from a fire and Bucky stood too close. He wanted to ask _who_ Steve made a deal with, but with the way everyone was dancing around the name, Bucky had an inkling of who they were. He didn’t want to hear that answer. He had enough of _them_. Though, if he was right, then either Steve was just that desperate or maybe his Steves weren’t really all that different. Both made extreme decisions when it came to Bucky. He wasn’t sure if he was flattered or downright terrified.

Sam shrugged. “Good. I didn’t like that deal anyway.” Sam pulled out a tiny item. Bucky was pretty sure it was a bomb. They’d set it to blow after going through.

Natasha sighed, staring at her feet. “Anyone up for cards?” She looked to Bucky’s Steve, smirking. “How ‘bout you, soldier? What’s your poker game like?”

Steve looked to Bucky, almost asking permission. It was so strange, watching him be uncertain—timid. He licked his lips, shrugging. “Pretty good.”

“Oh yeah? Wanna bet?” She took a step forward, trailing her fingers up his chest. “I wanna see how monsters play.”

Bucky cringed. It was one thing when he called Steve his monster—it was another when someone else did. Kind of like when people called Steve a punk when they were kids. It was only okay when Bucky did it.

“I’m in.” Steve watched Natasha like a tiger stalking prey. He followed her over to where Scott and Sam were and it was like Bucky didn’t even exist anymore. Steve had always been independent, leaving Bucky with Brock and Jack. Maybe it was just part of his nature.

It took Bucky only a few beats to realize what just happened. Natasha was smart enough to know that Bucky needed to talk to the Steve brooding alone,  and _Steve_ was smart enough to know why he was being pulled away. He’d allowed it. There was some kind of comfort there. He was a jealous man, but he was allowing Bucky to speak alone with his captain.

Bucky cringed. Calling Steve that in his head wasn’t even working. It was too formal. He sighed, walking over to Steve. Steve seemed to be busy looking over the buttons to notice Bucky.

“You came all this way for me—and you look like you always did when your ma forced you to Sunday church.”

Steve sighed, flicking up his brow briefly. “Just wanna get us all back home.”

There was an echo of laughter. They both looked to the other group, playing cards, smiling–—even talking to Steve. Bucky felt proud. They would finally see what he saw. A good man with a troubled history. At least he hadn’t tried to openly kill any of them. He’d been too focused on killing his doppelgänger.

“Steve.” Bucky found his throat swelling. He cleared it, trying to push away the pain. He was terrified. After all this time longing for the man, he was here—but it was nothing like it should’ve been. But that hug. _That hug_. It meant something to both of them. Steve still cared. “I’m—it’s strange, isn’t it?” It wouldn’t be irrational for a straight man to be disturbed by his best friend suddenly being in a sexual relationship with a man identical to him. Steve maybe just needed time to understand it, or listen to Bucky about it.

Steve looked over to the other him, a slight twitch of his brow indicated that he knew what Bucky was talking about.

“There wasn’t any time to tell you.” Bucky sat beside Steve. “I’m sorry.”

“You love him, huh?”

Bucky’s feet tingled from how uncomfortable he felt. He looked back over at the group playing poker, and then to Steve. “I didn’t mean to.”

Steve winced.

“It’s just—” Bucky swallowed. He wasn’t sure if the room was warm or if it was him. “He already loved me. He–—um—he was married to m—I mean James. He was married to James.”

Steve was staring at his boots.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky hung his head. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I should’ve known you’d feel strange about it—since he looks like you.”

“Uncomfortable? About you two?”

Bucky blinked. His eyes searched Steve’s face, hungry for any answer he could find to the confusion he felt.

“You think I’m uncomfortable about you with someone who looks like me? Bucky—that’s—Bucky that’s not it at all.” He ran his fingers through his hair, and then trailed them along his face. “I don’t care that you like men. I mean—I—I don’t care.”

Bucky furrowed his brow. Steve was getting red. He was doing that thing where he wanted to say something else but something was holding him back. Bucky had known this man his whole life. He knew when Steve was struggling with telling the full truth or holding back. He didn’t want to let Steve hold back.

“Does he take good care of you? I mean—were you happy there?” The wrecked way that Steve spoke made Bucky suck back a sharp breath. He stared, watching the sadness drown Steve’s blue eyes.

“No,” Bucky answered truthfully. “He was never you.”

Steve looked up, shock in his features. He leaned forward, licking the side of his mouth. “What?”

Bucky smiled warmly, relaxing into his chair. “I love you, Steve. I’ve always loved _you_.”

“But—”

“I love him too.”

Steve looked over at the poker group, his eyes round and his mouth open.

“He’s not a bad person. He’s you—just different. His world was cruel and it shaped him. His Bucky didn’t even love him till he was big. Imagine—me ignoring you because you were small.”

Steve flinched.

“I loved how big you already were inside, Steve. I saw the man you’ve always been long before the body matched the mind.”

“Bucky—”

“If you don’t feel the same, it’s okay,” Bucky said. “I just needed to be honest with you. I wasn’t happy there because I didn’t have you—but that doesn’t mean he’s some kind of replacement or Band-Aid. I love him too. He’s not a bad person—he just lived through a bad circumstance.” Bucky hid away that Steve had locked him up in their room. He understood the desperation. He’d forgiven it. There wasn’t much Steve Rogers could do that Bucky wouldn’t forgive. If the tables had been turned, Bucky wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have done the same.

“I,” Steve crossed his legs and his arms, “I do feel the same. Love you—I mean.” He wouldn’t look up at Bucky. “And I can’t fault him for trying to keep you. Because—I’d do it too.”

Bucky smiled.

“I don’t forgive him though. I don’t fault him, but I don’t forgive him—if that makes any sense.”

Bucky nodded.

“He took you from me.” Tears welled up in Steve’s eyes. Bucky didn’t realize the magnitude of it for a moment. Then he remembered this wasn’t the mirrorverse Steve. This was _his_ Steve—Captain America, his punk, his first love. And this Steve didn’t cry easily. Steve took a sharp breath, still all coiled up.

Bucky reached out, grabbing Steve’s knee. He nodded. They didn’t have to keep talking. Words didn’t need to convey what the soul already knew. Their souls weren’t just mates—they were each other. Bucky’s soul was Steve’s soul. In any universe— in any world—

Bucky would always love Steve, and Steve would always love Bucky.

* * *

**Epilogue – One year later**

Having two boyfriends wasn’t easy when they’re basically the same person. Steve Rogers was a stubborn man. Which meant Bucky had to diffuse countless heated arguments when Steve fought with Steve. It meant having to suffer through nights—even weeks of them giving each other the cold shoulder. Passive aggressive statements, uneaten dinners, and it was musical chairs for who was sleeping on the couch. Steve and Stevie (yeah, Bucky eventually caved and started calling his Steve his childhood nickname) never touched. Bucky would kiss one, and then he’d turn to kiss the other. They didn’t so much as even brush fingers.

Like tonight. Steve sat at the kitchen table. He was tapping his knife on his plate, staring inconsequently at something.

Eventually, Stevie reached his hand out and smacked the knife out of Steve’s hand. Steve’s face contorted into shock, his mouth dropping open.

“Stop it,” Stevie growled.

Bucky bit his bottom lip. “H-hey, c’mon.”

“No!” Stevie pushed his seat back. It scratched on the tile floor angrily. “He’s drivin’ me fucking nuts, Bucky!”

Steve looked away, pulling his hands into his lap. To say Steve’s transition was smooth would be the worst lie in the history of Bucky’s life. And Bucky told a lot of lies. Instead of his burning confidence he exuded in his world, he’d crumbled into an insecure shell. He was nervous most of the time, seeking affirmation in Bucky. It wasn’t all bad, aside from the fear of a lost purpose. He’d found food. His world was starving, and this one was bountiful. He’d put on some weight, but it wasn’t terribly noticeable. His six-pack softened up to smooth skin and his arms weren’t as defined, but that was mostly it. Bucky encouraged that though, all the cooking and food network watching. Steve got to explore foods that went extinct in his world. He even got to eat bacon. He _loved_ bacon.

“ _Steven_ ,” Bucky snapped, staring straight at his childhood best friend. He didn’t use the full name unless he was more than pissed. “You could've just asked?”

Stevie looked between Steve’s ashen face and Bucky’s furrowed brow. “Fine.” He promptly left the room.

Bucky hunched over, sighing. “I’m sorry.”

“S’okay.” Steve shrugged. “He hates me. I know.”

“He shouldn’t. We all agreed—”

“He didn’t.”

Bucky looked up, cocking a brow.

Steve stood up, picking up Bucky’s plate, his and Stevie’s. “He didn’t think he had a choice. That wasn’t really an agreement.”

“I didn’t force him!”

“But you did.” Steve started to rinse off the dishes. “I’d have died without you.” He cringed, pausing. “I don’t think we really gave him any choice at all.”

Bucky sat at the table, tapping his metal fingers on it. When they’d left that world, they’d left with the hope that it’d finally find some form of peace. Jack and Brock would change things—or at least BLADE. The world was still starving, people were still divided. Bucky knew that if they’d left Steve—the first thing he’d have done would be to kill himself. He hadn’t really left much of a choice for his Stevie. And there’d never been a discussion of their feelings for each other until _after_ Bucky had made the decision to bring Steve back. But what was he supposed to do? Leave a man to die? That death would be on him. Bucky couldn’t stand the idea of Steve Rogers ending himself because of Bucky.

Steve put the dishes in the dishwasher, then turned to lean on it. He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m not gonna give up. I know him better than he thinks I do. We’re the same, right?”

Bucky nodded. “At the core—definitely.”

Steve’s smile was timid. It pained Bucky to see those unabashed emotions filter away and become more and more confined. What was it about this world that made Steve Rogers hide his feelings?

Steve walked behind Bucky’s chair, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to his cheek. “Love you.”

“You too.”

* * *

Stevie hid away in the basement most of the time. They’d bought a house in Upstate New York. It was a stupid neighborhood with fences and children and Bucky was sure his Stevie secretly loved it. After the whole fallout with Tony, Stevie really didn’t see much reason to be Captain America anymore. In shedding his superhero identity, he’d found art again.

Bucky trudged down the steps, hoping a bagel and cream cheese would calm him from the previous night’s mood. He’d refrain from letting him know that Steve actually handmade the bagels—boiled method, apparently.

“Hey,” Bucky said.

Steve didn’t look up from his charcoal drawing. It was a scene from an old picture. A depiction of a war Bucky was absolutely sure they’d fought.

“What’s that for?”

“Dum Dum’s birthday. He should be dead—the shit’s still hangin’ on. Figured I’d make ‘im something.”

Bucky looked closer, realizing the war wasn’t just one he’d been in, those were the faces of the Commandos. How could he have forgotten some of them? They were so young once. Pain etched into his heart. That should’ve been his whole life, the war and then coming home to Steve. Except, he’d never have come home if Stevie hadn’t become Captain America. He’d have died on an experimentation table… The thought chilled Bucky through.

“S’nice of you. Looks good.” Bucky set the plate down. He stared at the bagel, wondering if Stevie would realize it was homemade.

“Thanks,” Stevie said. “Starved.”

“Yeah, you forget to eat a lot.” It was a pointed statement. Steve was in the kitchen a lot. Stevie, very much avoided the kitchen because of that.

“I know you’re upset,” Stevie said. “But it’s just—” He stared for a long time at his charcoal piece. Bucky wasn’t even sure he’d keep talking. “—it’s—it’s _so_ —hard.”

Bucky watched the way Stevie’s jaw clenched. He was tensing up fast. His fight or flight instincts were kicking in and Bucky wasn’t sure they’d even get to have this conversation. Stevie had a way with shutting down conversations that introduced feelings. That’s just who he was. He’d always been that way.

“I mean—he gets,” Steve chewed on his lip, “he gets to—kiss and—and do—everything’s just—so hard.”

Bucky leaned against the wall, careful to avoid any of Steve’s other canvases. He knew if he talked, then Steve would completely board himself up like a condemned house.

“I knew I loved you. I’ve known for—so long.” He dropped his charcoal and rubbed his face. Bucky stifled the laugh when he saw black streaks left in his fingers’ wake. “I got charcoal all over my face, didn’t I?”

Bucky nodded, smirking.

“Shit.” Steve slipped off his stool, going over to the bathroom. Luckily the house already had the basement all finished when they moved in. Bucky trailed after Steve, knowing if he didn’t keep the conversation alive, that Steve would let it die.

“So it bothers you that I have sex with him?”

Steve snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”

“I mean—shit.” Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t know, Steve. I fell in love with him. I didn’t exactly plan to. And you have sex with me too!”

Steve wiped his face on the towel. He snorted derisively.

Bucky flailed his hands in the air. “Oh c’mon, Stevie! That ain’t fair! I didn’t know! I didn’t know I’d be transported to some other world and I didn’t know I’d fall in love!”

“That’s not the problem,” Steve said, his eyes tearing up. “The problem is that—I’ve loved you for so long. You didn’t fall in love with _me_ , Bucky. You fell in love with _him_.” Steve pointed upstairs. “And I’ve gotta live with that.” He brushed Bucky aside, running up the steps.

Bucky flinched when the door slammed. He stared at the gray tiled floor, wondering what he could’ve done to change this. Stevie wasn’t right. Bucky had fallen in love with him, he’d been in love for so long. He’d just not known it. In falling for Steve, Bucky had realized he’d loved Stevie all along. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. He didn’t know how to change this.

So he climbed back up the stairs, thoughts focused on how to make their lives easier. They were at each other’s throats. Bucky never felt happy. He’d found love in _two_ men, but maybe that wasn’t how life was supposed to go.

What if he had to pick just one?

* * *

Steve was in the shower. Sometimes he took long showers when he felt he had nowhere else to go. He sat on the floor, staring at the swirling water as it gurgled down the drain. The water cascaded over his face, warm but not warm enough. He was still cold. It was so quiet here—living and sleeping above the water. He missed the groaning of the ocean and the BLADE base. He missed the early drills or the sharks. God, he missed Moose. He’d never realized how much he loved those sharks until he wasn’t with them anymore. Did they miss him? Did Foxy remember him? Did any of them?

The thought of Steve’s meaningless existence plagued him. He had no purpose here. He had no sharks to feed, no people to command and no life to really—lead. He was just here because Bucky wanted him, because _he_ was too afraid of living without Bucky. Sighing, he scrubbed at his face, feeling water slosh up his nose.

He was about to get out when a knock came at the door. “I’ll be out soon!”

The door opened. He listened to someone strip out of their clothes and then he felt dry, warm legs by his sides. Hands splayed across his chest and he found himself being pulled back. Only one person would do this.

“Hey, Buck.”

“Hey. You’ve been in here for awhile. Thought I’d come see what you were doin’.”

“Thinkin’—sorry.”

Bucky trailed his fingers idly on Steve’s chest. “Don’t be sorry. Wanna tell me about it?”

Steve snorted. “No—not really.”

Bucky pressed his chin into Steve’s shoulder. The stubble stung but the warmth that blossomed behind Steve made it all worth it. It’s not like Steve was a stranger to pain anyway. He looked at the brand on his arm.

“Cap in a one of his moods?” He’d never felt right calling the other man by his own name. It didn’t separate them enough, and Steve needed his own identity—now more than ever.

“Unfortunately,” Bucky answered. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re always apologizing for him. S’not gonna change it. But it’s fine. I get it.”

“I want you two to be friends so badly.” Bucky squeezed his arms around Steve. “I think you’d really like each other.”

“Mmm.”

“I mean, you’re each other. I thought—God, I’m so selfish.”

Steve flicked up his brow. Bucky wasn’t entirely wrong. It’d been selfish, but Steve had also been selfish. He couldn’t take another heartbreak. After what had happened with James, he needed Bucky more than ever. Perhaps there was another Bucky out in the multiverse that needed a Steve, but Steve couldn’t find that man—all he had was this one—and Steve loved him all the same.

“I’m sorry—for bringin’ you here. I should’ve thought more—”

Steve grabbed Bucky’s wrist, squeezing it tight. “Don’t be sorry, please. Never be sorry. This has been—well—this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love—I love so much about this world. I just feel lost here. All I’ve got is you. No one’s my friend or my family. They all belong to Cap.”

“You’ve got me.” Bucky kissed Steve’s shoulderblade. Then he kissed it again, and again…and again.

“I love you so much,” Steve said, feeling tears warm his eyes. “You’re the only thing I’ve got.”

“Sleep with me tonight? Stevie’s not gonna be home.”

Steve bit back the insult. _What, I’m not good enough when he’s around?_ He understood what Bucky meant, but it still hurt. “I don’t wanna fuck tonight.”

“We don’t have to.” Bucky traced his nose along the nape of Steve’s neck. “We can cuddle and watch _Roxanne_ reruns. Oh! Or _Gilmore Girls_.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I hate that shit. All of that is shit.”

“You’re so emotionally invested in Rory’s struggle as an intelligent teen trying to find her identity and juggle boyfriends. Don’t even lie.” Bucky playfully bit Steve’s shoulder, and the dam finally broke. Steve barked out a laugh, reaching back to cup Bucky’s head.

“Fine! Fine ya got me! That sounds nice, Buck.” Steve really did enjoy TV. He didn’t have it back in his world.

Bucky hummed, dropping his head against Steve’s shoulder. He was still tracing his fingers over Steve’s chest. Steve wouldn’t lie, he’d like Bucky to flick over a nipple, maybe pull at one—but he didn’t want to fuck tonight. It didn’t feel right sneaking around behind Cap’s back. It never felt right, honestly. Steve’s whole world was turned upside down. Before, he wouldn’t have cared. He’d have made sure he was extra loud just to piss Cap off. But now? After a year he’d learned a few things about the man.

Cap was deeply internal, and overly sensitive. He preferred quiet reflection and valued his space. He also valued honestly. They hated each other, but that didn’t mean they didn’t respect each other. Steve respected Cap enough to not hide anything from him, and Cap respected Steve enough to let him still love Bucky. That had to stand for something.

“Wanna get out yet?” Bucky asked.

“Sure.”

They dried off, both stealing glances at each other. Steve’s body wasn’t as defined as it used to be, but he was pretty sure Bucky actually preferred him this way. He was always grabbing at Steve’s hips and kneading into the skin. He’d called Steve _soft_ once. It’d hurt Steve, until Bucky explained that it made him happy. _I don’t want you to ever starve again_.

Steve had known starvation.

Once in bed, Bucky turned on the TV and flipped over to Netflix. _Netflix._ It was such a foreign concept to Steve—movies and television. His world had stopped producing anything like that so long ago. Movie stars all died out. They were worthless. They couldn’t fight. Only the strong survived. Yet they were worshiped here. It was preposterous, but Steve found himself deeply addicted to the characters on the screen, so he snuggled up to Bucky, wrapping an arm around his lover and sighed when Bucky plopped his head against Steve’s chest. Bucky curled into him and began tracing insignificant little pictures over Steve’s ribs. It tickled, but not enough to make him stop. Steve soaked up every little flick of Bucky’s finger or flourish. It was the food that soothed his soul—Bucky’s love.

“You okay?” Bucky mumbled. “Really?”

Steve watched the girls on the screen, they shot witty line after witty line. It was painfully scripted, and Steve ate it up. “I dunno.”

“Talk to me? Please? You used to talk to me.”

“I do talk to you.”

“I mean like—you never hid how you felt, back in your world. Now I think you’re gettin’ to be like Stevie more and more each day.”

Steve snorted. If only… Then he wouldn’t feel like such a backup.

“I’m just—still figuring this whole thing out. I know it’s been a year. You’d think I’d have—figured somethin’ out. But—I dunno. I just feel lost. Nothin’ is _mine_ here. I’m gettin’ repetitive.”

“No, no it’s okay.” Bucky scooted up, brushing his lips over Steve’s. “I’m yours. When you feel lost, just remember I’m yours.”

Steve hummed, curling his fingers around Bucky’s. “I’m yours too, you know.”

Bucky smiled. “You were mine the second you saw me.”

Steve laughed. “Ain’t that the truth.”

Bucky leaned forward, swinging a leg over Steve. Their lips crashed together, and all thoughts of _Gilmore_ _Girls_ faded away into wandering fingers and rocking hips. Steve arched his hips off the bed, feeling the outline of Bucky’s cock.

“Jesus,” Steve gasped. “I thought we weren’t gonna fuck?”

Bucky bit down on Steve’s bottom lip, earning a growl. “We’re not.” He slipped his hand down Steve’s body, cupping Steve’s dick. “But I wanna play with it.”

Heat dumped into Steve, so violently that he broke out sweating. “Play?”

Bucky nodded, his eyes round and almost child-like. “Yeah. Lemme play with it. It’s so pretty.”

“Oh fuck,” Steve sighed. “Yeah—yeah baby—whatever you want.”

Bucky smiled, clearly proud of himself. He slipped his hand into Steve’s pants, wrapping chilled metal fingers around Steve’s dick. Steve hissed, jerking his hips back, but Bucky’s fingers lingered. Cool metal secured itself around him.

“You ever wonder what it’s like to be the bottom?” Bucky asked, pumping his hand.

Steve hissed again, pushing his head into the pillow when Bucky’s fingers went over his tip. The icy bite of the metal seeped into the thin sensitive skin, but Steve loved it. His cock pulsed harder, jerking in Bucky’s hand.

“Uh—ah shit—uh…I don’t wanna talk right now.” Steve stared at Bucky’s hand, watching it move back and forth over his cock.

“Why not?” Bucky slipped between Steve’s thighs. He gingerly lapped his tongue out, and Steve slammed his head back into the headrest. “You don’t wanna talk about how good it’d feel with my fingers in your ass?”

“Bucky!”

Bucky lips wrapped around Steve’s cock, sucking gently. His tongue flicked the underside, warm, slick and hot.

Steve was a goner before this even began. Bucky knew how to manipulate the situation. He’d been more reserved in Steve’s world, but with the comforts of his own world around him, Steve watched him blossom into a man with a confident nature..

And Steve found himself not minding one bit.

Bucky pulled back, teasing his tongue around the tip of Steve’s cock before kissing it with wet, open-mouth kisses. “You don’t—” more kisses, “—wanna know—” even _more_ kisses, “—how good it feels?” He took all of Steve into his mouth, tongue swirling around Steve’s girth. He sucked so hard that sinful sounds escaped around them, caressing Steve’s ears and lighting a fire inside him.

“Oh fuck me,” Steve whispered. “Yes—God, yes fuck me, Bucky.” He rocked up into Steve’s mouth, pumping his hips up and down. “Yes, _fuck,_ yes fuck me—fuck me.” He lasted for a few more thrusts of Bucky’s mouth before he was coming down Bucky’s throat.

Bucky, like the beautiful devil that he was, swallowed it all down. He popped off Steve’s wet dick, lips red and shimmering. “Yeah?”

Steve gasped. “Yeah what?”

“You’d let me fuck you?”

Steve felt his face go red. He tucked himself back in his pants and curled up to the side, uncertain with himself. In the heat of the moment, it was a lot easier to babble out. Now though, he had to _face_ how he’d felt. It was a vulnerability that frightened him. James said it’d never hurt—at least—not when Steve went slow. Bucky would be slow. Steve trusted him enough for that. They’d make sure Steve was worked open and Bucky would be so good to him. But that vulnerability? It was a tough pill to swallow.

“Hey,” Bucky cooed. He wrapped his arms around Steve, pulling him into Bucky’s lap. Bucky stroked his fingers through Steve’s hair, making sure to scratch along the hairline on his neck. It felt so good that Steve was already relaxing into him. “Don’t ever think you need to do somethin’ with me just because I ask, okay?”

“I know that. And it’s not that I don’t wanna try.” Steve swallowed, taking a deep breath. “It’s just—in my culture our roles I guess were more defined than here. I mean—you’ve got gender inequality and racism and all kinds of shit. But we had—I dunno. Alphas and betas? Dominants and submissives?”

“Superiors and respondents?”

“Yeah! Yeah that.”

Bucky kept stroking Steve’s hair.

“I’m just fighting—cause my position’s changed. I’m not a leader anymore.”

“You don’t have to be a leader to be a top or a bottom. In fact—none of that is required to _be_ a top or bottom. It’s just a sexual preference. It has nothing to do with your personality or identity. I mean—I guess you can amp it up and let it become part of your identity, but it’s not really required.”

Steve stayed silent. He liked listening to Bucky’s voice. And the words weren’t half bad either. Steve wrapped an arm around Bucky, nuzzling into the crook of his knee. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll try it. But—not right now. Later—sometime.”

Bucky leaned down and kissed Steve. “I’ll go slow. And if you don’t like it, that’s nothin’ to be ashamed of either.”

Steve was about to reach up and pull Bucky into a deeper kiss when the bedroom door opened. Cap stood there, his eyes round—face horrified.

“Oh. I’ll just—I’m sorry. Couch.”

Steve didn’t know why, but he jumped up, chasing after Cap as he scrambled down the stairs. Cap was already flinging himself onto the couch and grabbing a blanket when Steve dropped down the steps.

“Hey—that—we didn’t know—”

“He’s your boyfriend too,” Cap said bitterly. “Not like it’s cheating or anything.”

Steve winced. He knew that tone all-too-well. Reading Cap was often like reading a book. Bucky pined over the complexities of Cap’s mind, when Steve read it all too clearly. “Look, I know we’re not friends—”

Cap scoffed.

“Please, just—just hear me out?”

Cap stayed silent. Steve took that as he’d listen.

“I stole him, I know.” Steve walked around the couch to sit on the coffee table. Cap just stared blankly. “He found out he loved you by me loving him.”

Cap’s eyes widened. Realization. Steve didn’t want to lose his gumption, so he kept going.

“I was never the real thing to him. I’m still not.” His throat swelled, but he kept speaking, “You’re _his_ Steve—okay? You’re the one who gets the petname and you’re the one he’s trying so damn hard to accommodate. D’you really think he’d leave you for me?”

Cap averted his gaze.

“I’m a backup. I’m what he seeks out because you’re not giving yourself to him. You love him. He loves you. So _love_ him. And fuck what I think, okay? Because at the end of the day,” tears welled up in his eyes, “I don’t really matter.”

Cap sucked in his lips, pensive. They sat there in the darkness of the living room long enough for the tears to slip from Steve’s eyes. Every word tasted like ash, and he clung to the idea that perhaps it wasn’t true—but the more he talked, the more he realized that without Cap in this relationship, Bucky would never be happy. Steve wasn’t enough. Bucky needed more than he could give. It hurt, it hurt so much that Steve was openly crying in front of Cap, but it was okay. Bucky had a big heart. He needed to love more than one Steve.

“Okay,” Cap said. “I see it now.”

“See what?” Steve wiped at his tears.

“Me.” Cap sat up, leaning forward. “You’re as self-sacrificing as I am.”

Steve laughed. “That a good thing?”

Cap flicked up his brows briefly. “No—actually—God no.”

They laughed. At first, it was uneasy, both chuckling and watching the other. But then it became louder, their faces filling with humor until they were both full on belly-laughing. It wasn’t even that funny, but it was like all the tension finally got too tight to withstand and they just crumbled into each other. It was a good thing though. Steve felt good about it.

“D-don’t say that about yourself,” Cap said, wiping a tear from his eye. He chuckled again. “About being second-best. That’s not how he sees you.”

“He never wanted to stay. If I could give him everything he wanted, wouldn’t he want to stay?”

Cap smiled sadly, nodding. “It’s not so simple. Me ‘n Buck—there’s too much history. He’d never give that up. Not even for the love of his life.”

“But the love of his life is you.”

Cap shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Point is, he loves us both. And I’ve been such a jackass to you.”

It was Steve’s turn to shrug. “It was understandable.”

“No, there’s no excuse. I was jealous. I’ve spent this whole year hating you instead of being your friend. I mean, we’re pretty much twins. Most kids dream of finding some long-lost twin. Here you are.”

Steve smiled. “I did try to kill you. Twice.”

“Yeah—you did. But I understand why. Bucky’s made me do some pretty crazy things too.”

“Love, man.”

Cap laughed. “Yeah. Love, man.”

“You two gonna kiss yet or am I gonna be disappointed?” Bucky called from the base of the steps.

Cap rolled his eyes. Steve considered it though. Could he? _Kiss_ Cap? They were the same person. Wasn’t that somehow wrong? Some kind of incest? They weren’t related—technically. But they _were_ the same person. Just from different worlds. Maybe the cheek. He could kiss Steve’s cheek.

“We’re talkin’,” Cap said. “You should be happy.”

“I’m fuckin’ thrilled.” Bucky walked into the room, turning on a light. “Is it too soon to ask that we all share the bed? I mean—it’s a king.”

Cap and Steve looked at each other, Steve shrugged. “Why not?”

Cap sighed, nodding. “Yeah—why not.”

“Listen,” Bucky said. “Not to push this envelope but you two gettin’ cuddly has been a dirty little fantasy of mine for far too long.”

“Yeah-yeah,” Cap said, standing up and folding the blanket. “Keep dreamin’.”

Slipping into a bed with three bodies felt pretty good. Bucky was secure in the middle, turning his head to press kisses to each man before settling in on his back. He reached down for Steve’s hand, lacing their fingers. Steve smiled, watching him do the same with Cap.

Maybe Steve wasn’t a backup, or some kind of appendage that Bucky felt guilty cutting off. Steve had made mistakes, and some of those mistakes would stay with him forever. But Bucky seemed okay with what happened, with what _was_ happening. And if Bucky was okay? Well, then Steve was too. He wasn’t a replacement and he wasn’t a backup. Bucky loved him just as much as he loved Cap. It was a good feeling, one that warmed his toes and made his heart beat just a tiny bit faster.

“Love you both,” Bucky whispered.

“You too,” Cap said sleepily.

Steve just pressed a kiss to Bucky’s shoulder. Falling asleep had never been so easy.

* * *

Waking up was difficult. Steve felt impossibly hot. There was a limb jammed up in his crotch and someone’s rough hand on his face. He opened one eye, looking at Cap’s hand right in his face. He scooted from the tangled mess of limbs and made his way into the bathroom to relieve himself. He was sore from holding Bucky all night, but it was a good sore—the kind that left him reassured that he’d never have to be alone again.

Looking in the mirror, Steve traced the outline of his chest, down to his navel. He didn’t have the musculature that Cap had anymore. He didn’t like exercising and food was too good here. Bacon, steak, rotisserie chicken and whatever else Steve could find at the grocery. That was unheard of back in his world. _His_ world. Was that even what it was anymore?

They’d destroyed the machines with no intention of fixing them. Steve could never go back. He looked over his shoulder at the other sleeping men. They were his world now. Bucky—a man he loved more than life itself and Cap—a man he didn’t really like, but a man he knew all-too-well. Could they ever be friends? Steve understood better than anyone the protective nature of Cap. Bucky belonged to him, and yet here Steve was—a man with a similar face claiming to love Bucky just as much as Cap did.

Steve leaned over the sink, grabbing his toothbrush and angrily brushing at his teeth. He didn’t want to think about this anymore. All it did was make him realize he’d left behind the ashes, the soul of the man he loved in a universe that he could never go back to.

For some reason, that hurt Steve more than he liked to think about.

Once finished, he padded back into the room, slipping back beneath the covers. Bucky turned toward him and wrapped his metal arm over Steve’s chest. It was warm—thank God. His little sighs made Steve smile and forget about the ache he’d felt in the bathroom. This was his lover now. Cap was or would be—one day—his friend. They’d be family. Steve just needed to figure out where he fit into all this in the meantime.

* * *

Steve hummed a tune to a song he’d heard on the radio as he flipped the omelette he was making. Bacon sizzled in the frying pan and the hash browns were about finished. He loved cooking breakfast.

Bucky came into the kitchen, his face brightening as he saw the food. “You made coffee!”

“I know you too well.” Steve scooped an omelet out of the pan. “How many pieces of bacon?”

“Hmm.” Bucky sipped on his mug. The steam acted as some kind of hazy guide that directed Steve to focus on those gray eyes. The sunlight was soaking in, showing off the curves and shadows of Bucky’s eyes. Steve could stare all day and never get bored of looking at those eyes.

Steve turned back to the omelets, shaking out some cheese to garnish the two in the pan. “Bacon, baby?”

“I was just wonderin’,” Bucky said as he crossed the room, “if instead of bacon I could have somethin’ else this mornin’.” He grabbed Steve’s drawstrings, smiling salaciously.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” He leaned forward, biting Steve’s neck.

“Oh!” Steve leaned against the counter. His body melted like the cheese in the frying pan. He always got the most delightful little swirl of excitement in his stomach when Bucky took charge. If this had been James—if this had been another world—Steve wasn’t sure how he’d react. But he was allowed to let someone else hold him, dictate how rough he wanted to be with him, and it didn’t frighten Steve. He invited it into his heart.

“You’re so pretty when you’re confused,” Bucky whispered. He sucked harder on Steve’s neck. His metal hand snaked into Steve’s pants and just as Steve was relaxing into the touch, Cap walked in.

“Oh—shi— I’m sorry!”

Bucky pulled back, his face red. Cap scampered off and Bucky followed. Steve blinked into the kitchen, listening to the crackling of the bacon and smelling the burning omelette. Cap moved and Bucky always followed. Always.

He turned, sullen and now more than aware of a throbbing erection in his sweatpants. He scooped the omelette onto a serving plate. They weren’t badly burned, just charred around the edges. The bacon was crispy, but that’s how Bucky liked it anyway. He went through the motions of serving breakfast, but his heart wasn’t here anymore. It was yearning for a world that wanted him. This one already had a Steve Rogers. What good was another one?

Steve was just about finished cleaning when Cap and Bucky came back inside. They were laughing. The sound of Cap’s laughter did more to make Steve feel like a knife was being pressed into his lungs than inspire any happiness of his own.

“Did you already eat?” Bucky asked.

“Yup.” Steve put one pan out to dry. “I put yours in the microwave.” _Microwave_. A year later and Steve still wasn’t used to the damn thing. There were so many rules about what he could put in it or what would make it melt or explode. He’d read that microwaves destroyed all the nutrients anyway, so what good were they for?

“Thanks.” Bucky moved awkwardly over to the microwave, peeking into it. “You saved Stevie some.”

Steve blinked. “You thought I wouldn’t?”

Cap cleared his throat.

Steve stared at the man, looking over that jaw, that blond brow ridge. Everything was so similar and yet completely different. “I don’t hate you. You hate me.” He bit his lip. “Made that pretty clear.”

Steve didn’t wait for a reaction. He retreated to the only place that he could call his own. It was the atrium of the house. He’d planted all the vegetables and replaced the broken window panes. He came out here to read, or be alone. Sometimes he even spoke to the carrots. He’d come a long way from being a ruthless captain with BLADE to a gardener who _spoke_ to his plants.

He brushed his hand over the parsley, feeling the velvet leaves. Dejected, he sat next to them, huffing hard enough that the tiny green plant swayed along. Self-pity had always been something he was really good at. He blamed himself for James, he blamed himself for Brock’s suffering and he blamed himself for pushing Bucky away. Bucky confused Steve. There’d been a moment back on BLADE’s base that Steve thought Bucky would kill him. The knife never came. Steve found himself on his way here and then he was seeing a world he’d never dreamed of. A world that _functioned_. He saw Captain America give up his shield, leave active duty and become just a _guy_. He saw Bucky be exonerated for crimes he’d committed with HYDRA. He saw the awkward attempts of Tony Stark to try to reach out to Steve, or Steve to Tony—it never really worked though. Nothing short of a new war would bring them fully together again.

He’d seen so much and yet he understood so little. People still killed each other, they took up banners in the name of God or politics and hated each other. There was so much this world had to offer and yet no one took the time to really appreciate it. Steve would’ve _killed_ for his Ma to see this world. James too…

His gut churned. James would’ve been so much happier here.

“Hey.” Uneasy words.

Steve looked up. Cap was standing by the door with his arms crossed. “Hey.”

“You’re crying.”

Steve blinked, reaching up to feel wet tears. Stunned, he stared at the shiny tips of his fingers. He hadn’t even realized.

“You okay?”

Steve huffed. “No. No I’m not okay.” He picked a browning leaf of the parsley. “I look around at everything—your world—and it just reminds me of everything I lost. James, my ma—my dog.”

Cap didn’t reply. Unlike Steve, Cap used silences to move conversations more than he used words. It drove Bucky crazy. It was one of the differences in them. Cap valued silence and internalizing where Steve valued talking and harnessing emotion. It was harder though. Steve didn’t really have anyone but Bucky to talk to about his feelings. He’d found himself slowly closing up, too afraid to burden Bucky anymore with the intensity that he used to show.

“Tell me about him?”

“Who?”

Cap laughed softly. “James. Was he like Bucky?” He stepped into the atrium, still smiling.

“No—not really. James seemed to be the complete opposite really. They’re both stubborn, so maybe there’s that. James was softer than Bucky. He needed me.” Steve sighed. “He needed me to survive.”

“Mm. I know how that is.”

Steve cocked a brow.

“I needed Bucky to survive. He got me out of the fights I started—and I started plenty. Gave me money when I didn’t have any. Listened to me vent or shut me down when I got too self-loathing.”

“I didn’t meet James when you met Bucky. We lived full lives before meeting.”

“You were alone.”

Steve fiddled with his fingers. “Yeah.” The word was hard to admit. It weighed against his tongue and Steve felt like he had to shove it out of his mouth. “But when I found him,” tears filled his eyes, “it was perfect. We fell in love and it felt so good to be looked at like that. I got to hold him and comfort him—it was—everything to me. I thought protecting him was the most important goal in my life.” Steve paused, feeling the tears slip from his eyes. “And then I failed.”

“You didn’t fail. He chose that.”

“No,” Steve answered quickly. “No I failed. It was my job to show him how strong he was, and I was too busy showing him how weak he was.”

Cap swallowed, looking away.

“I’ve done a lot of bad things, Cap. _A lot_ of bad things.” A bitter laugh escaped his throat. “But the worst thing I ever did was make James feel like he wasn’t good enough. I know what that’s like now. I’d eat my fucking feet if I could go back and change it.”

“You don’t feel good enough?” Cap flipped an empty pot over and sat down on it. Their knees barely brushed together. Steve stared at them, transfixed on how abrupt the outlines of the joints were. Knees were ugly things.

“I’m not you.”

“Actually,” Cap bit his lip to suppress a laugh, “that’s pretty much the definition of me. Wasn’t good enough to be in the army, wasn’t good enough for Peggy, wasn’t good enough to save Bucky, wasn’t good enough to defeat Loki on my own. All those things were me internalizing my anger at myself for not being good enough.” He tilted his head, smirking. “So we’re obviously not good enough to be each other—which means we probably are good enough.”

A smile twitched at Steve’s lips. It was hesitant at first, scared its presence would shatter the truce between them, but then it spread across his face, alive and as vivid as the sun in the sky. “Yeah?”

Cap nodded. “Yeah. You were good enough for James. But life has a way of—changing things. You’re here now, with us—and we want you here.”

“You want me here?” A crocodile’s smile appeared on Steve’s face. He was sure the last thing Cap wanted was Steve, but life did have—as Cap said—a way of changing things.

“Yes,” Cap answered. “Yes, I do.”

“Why?”

Cap leaned back, furrowing his brow. He looked away, staring at the row of parsley, cilantro and ginger. “Because—because despite everything you did—I can’t really _fault_ you. Believe me. I wanted—I wanted to hate you.”

Steve nodded.

“But I know you. That desperation to keep Bucky? That love?” He nodded. “I know that. I _have_ that. So I don’t hate you, because I know you’d put Bucky before me or you—or anything, really. And that’s how I feel too. So, if we put Bucky before us we—”

“Let each other love him,” Steve finished.

Cap nodded, a tiny smile on his lips. “Yeah. Because he needs both of us. And we need each other.”

“We do?”

Cap smiled. “We do.”

Steve stared at his hands, contemplating Cap’s words. They offered solace where Steve had felt like he’d been on icy ground before. The world wasn’t going to swallow him up and he wouldn’t die below the waters. Cap was lifting him up with a promise that he belonged.

“I really—I really want to be—um—I really want us to be friends,” Steve said.

“Yeah? Me too.” Cap clapped his hands together, nodding. “There’s a football game on? We could—we could watch it together?”

Steve nodded eagerly. “I’d like that.”

“Okay. Great. Yeah. Uh—I’ll head to the store real fast to get us some beer?”

“I’ll make us somethin’ to eat.”

Cap laughed, standing. “I’ll be back soon.”

Steve almost ran into the kitchen. He couldn’t hide the smile on his face even if he tried. He didn’t want to though. Cap wanted them to be friends. Cap understood him in the same way that Steve felt he knew Cap. This could be okay. Maybe. Steve was hopeful. The idea of a family excited Steve more than he wanted to admit. Cap, Bucky and Steve—a family. _Kids_ or a dog one day.

Steve wanted that. He wanted it more than anything.

* * *

Two months after the football game, things started to really click together for Steve. He’d found himself going down into the basement with Cap a lot—reading or just watching Cap draw. They often didn’t speak, but it was the company that was important.

They slept in the same bed with Bucky between them every night. Like some ritual, Bucky kissed their faces and declared his love, and then they’d all settle into bed. Intimacy was still off the table. It was like Bucky was some kind of teenage girl with an overprotective father. He had to sneak around when he wanted to make love with Steve or Cap. To be honest, Steve really didn’t mind it when Cap got to be with Bucky. He’d curl up on the sofa and turn on the TV a little louder than normal and that’d be it. Cap had a bit of a harder time when Bucky snuck off with Steve. He was like some lost puppy who couldn’t settle down until he knew where Bucky was or what he was doing.

Steve was absolutely sure that was the price of losing someone and finding them again. He had some personal experience in the area.

They were in the kitchen, Steve assembling a nice salad and getting ready to slice the hard boiled eggs for it. Bucky was at the table, looking over an estimate for getting their roof fixed. Money wasn’t terribly easy to come by. Cap worked as an artist now. He was pretty restricted by the Accords on taking up the Avengers mantle again. Since he and Tony didn’t really talk anymore, that didn’t seem to be something that bothered him. Having Bucky back seemed to make him enjoy a more domestic life, or so he claimed.

Bucky was still trying to get his collision autoshop off the ground, but he needed some kind of certification thing. Steve wasn’t really too sure what all that meant.

But it wasn’t the bills or the jobs that changed everything for Steve. When Cap came into the room, he didn’t bend down to kiss Bucky. He stood behind Steve, wrapping his arms around Steve and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck.

“Hey,” he said.

“H-hey.” Steve was tingling all over. He wasn’t sure if his tongue was swelling or if his body was shrinking in on itself.

“This okay?” Cap asked.

“Oh please don’t stop,” Bucky said. He scooted back in his chair, his mouth hanging open. “You’ve no idea how badly I’ve wanted to see you two like this.”

Steve blushed, staring down at his salad. “I—I can’t turn around.” He pushed back into Cap’s chest. There wasn’t much room to move.

“Huh?” Cap loosened his grip.

Steve spun around, cupping Cap’s face and pulling their lips together. The kiss was awkward, more lip than tongue and Steve was sure Cap could hear his hammering heart. But despite the reservations and the surprise, it was an okay kiss. There was no revolting feeling when Steve thought that he was kissing another form of himself and there was no God opening the skies to punish them.

“Oh.” Cap’s breath was warm against Steve’s face— warm and smelled of one of those Tic-Tac’s he liked eating so much.

“Oh?”

“Good oh.” Cap ventured forward, letting his body weight lean into Steve. “Different oh, but good oh.”

Steve grabbed Cap’s hips, slipping his fingers beneath the hem of his shirt. Smooth skin met rough fingers and it made Steve’s throat ache. He wanted to kiss Cap again. He laughed, surprised at the intensity of how badly he wanted to kiss Cap again.

Cap whined, biting his bottom lip.

Steve pushed Cap’s neck forward, guiding them together again. They kissed heavier, Cap’s hips rocking into Steve. He whined when their lips ebbed together, pushing his body firmer into Steve. Tongues sloshed out, unabashed and relentless as they explored each other. Steve found himself comfortably in control of the kiss, guiding Cap’s following tongue and mint-flavored lips.

“Bed,” Bucky said, breaking all their focuses. “Bed now.”

Cap pulled Steve by the wrist, laughing. “Are we? Are we really gonna?” He flushed red.

“Do you want to?” Steve asked as they rounded the corner to go up the stairs. “We don’t—if you’re not—”

“No I want to,” Cap rushed out. “That’s the scary part.”

Steve smirked. He pushed Cap against the wall again, grabbing Bucky by the wrist and yanked him into the kiss. Three mouths didn’t slot together like two, but they found a balance. Steve kissed down Cap’s neck, sucking at the skin and rocking into the man as Cap whined. Those _whines_. They were delicious little angels that whispered in Steve’s ear and all he wanted was more of them.

His fingers crawled up Cap’s stomach, caressing over defined abs and cupping at a heaving chest.

“Oh _shit,_ ” Cap breathed out.

Steve opened his eyes, smiling approvingly. Bucky was behind Steve, nibbling and lapping at his neck and ear. His hands were down in Cap’s pants, pumping at his cock. Steve groaned, watching how Bucky rocked into Cap, claiming him. He wanted to see that. He wanted Bucky to pull all those whines and little cries out of Cap’s pretty lips. Steve wasn’t sure if it was narcissistic suddenly to find Cap’s lips pretty...

Steve circled his fingers around Cap’s nipples, pinching and flicking over the skin. Cap gasped and whined with each motion. Could Steve make those same sounds? He wanted to…

Bucky grabbed one of Steve’s hands, pulling it down to Cap’s cock. “Touch him.”

Cap opened his eyes—black pupils and a dazed expression. He stared hungrily at Steve, nodding.

“It’s okay?” Steve asked.

Cap nodded again. “Touch me.”

So Steve did. He wrapped his fingers around Cap’s cock, pumping back and forth while Bucky played with Cap’s balls. Those pretty little whines escaped into the air like a beating heart, getting faster and faster.

Cap was trembling, leaning back into Bucky but still arching into Steve’s where he bent to claim a nipple with his mouth. He flicked his tongue out, sucking and swirling.

“Ah…f-fuck…please…please…” Cap trembled in their hands, thrusting into Bucky’s hands and arching into Steve’s fingers. “I’m gonna…please I’m gonna…oh shit! Oh fuck me, fuck, fuck me!”

Steve looked down, licking his lips. Cap’s pants had a tiny wet spot., and the warmth he felt in his hand slid into his palm. Cap was so sensitive—a tiny difference between them. Sensitivity had been burned out of Steve with his branding.

“That okay?” Steve asked. Fear clung to the back of his mind. He was terrified Cap would look around and find he hated this.

“More,” Cap said, softly—unsure of himself. “Please?”

Steve looked at Bucky, waiting for him to take some kind of control of the situation. Steve didn’t mind commanding legions of people. He minded breaking the little treaty he and Cap formed.

Bucky walked into the bedroom, and sure as day follows night, Cap followed. Steve watched from the doorway as Bucky stripped naked and slipped onto the bed. Cap started shedding his clothes off too and joined him.

Their bodies slotted together, Cap’s legs around Bucky, Bucky slipping between as they rolled into each other. The fire in Steve’s belly flicked at his insides. He’d never known how badly he wanted Bucky between his thighs till he saw how beautiful Cap looked splayed out and needy.

“Steve,” Bucky said between a kiss. “Join us.”

Steve shed his clothes, hovering at his briefs for just a moment when he saw Cap was watching him. Cap blushed, looking away. That red flowed from his cheeks all the way down his belly.

He got behind Bucky, digging his fingers into the man’s shoulders and sliding them down to that perfect ass he loved so much.

Bucky arched back, groaning and rocking into Cap. “Fuckin’ please, fuckin’ lick me.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked, nibbling Bucky’s shoulder. “Want me to play with your hole while you play with his?”

Cap shivered. A string of incoherent words escaped his mouth.

“Wanna see it,” Steve continued, regaining a confidence he was more than familiar with. “Wanna see your shiny silver fingers slip in and out of him. Can you do that baby?” He kissed down Bucky’s spine. “I’ll eat you out so good, I swear. Just lemme see that first.”

“Oh fuck,” Bucky moaned. “Yeah, baby, yeah I can do that.” He kissed desperately at Cap’s lips, rocking forward. “That okay, Stevie?”

Cap nodded, his mouth hanging open.

Steve watched as Bucky slicked up his metal fingers with the lube from the nightstand. He brought his fingers to Cap’s hole, circling a few times slowly.

Cap howled out a heady whine, pushing his head back into the pillows. “More…more please more, more, more.”

“Shh, baby boy,” Bucky whispered, kissing Steve’s knee. “Wanna put on a show for Steve, yeah?”

Cap nodded, whimpering.

Steve’s heart momentarily forgot how to beat. It wasn’t just the confidence in Bucky’s voice, but the absolute trust Cap gave him. He was vulnerable and receptive to everything Bucky asked of him. It was a trust that Steve found himself struggling with, but one he wanted to try—one day.

“God you’re both so beautiful.” Steve stroked his fingers down Bucky’s spine, smirking when Bucky arched into the touch, shaking his ass a bit. “You want my tongue, baby?”

“Mmmm, please, Steve?” Bucky slipped another finger into Cap, curling them each time he pumped in. Cap sobbed, biting his fingers. “Don’t want Stevie havin’ all the fun.”

Steve kissed along Bucky’s back, licking at the dimples above his ass and down his crack. He parted Bucky’s cheeks, licking a single stripe up the middle.

Bucky shivered, moaning.

Steve pushed his face into Bucky, licking and swirling his tongue around that quivering hole. It opened easily, letting his tongue slip inside. He focused on flattening out his tongue, slipping it in and out of Bucky’s body. His hands held onto Bucky’s hips, pushing them down when he tried to push back.

Cap’s whimpers mixed with Bucky’s. Steve found himself measuring them together and found Cap’s to be prettier. Bucky put more throat into his where Cap was all nasal. Steve’s cock twitched each time Bucky or _Stevie_ moaned.

He curled his tongue inside Bucky’s ass, lapping hungrily. Bucky rocked back, pumping his fingers into Cap with the rhythm of Steve’s tongue. Sticky, slick sounds echoed around Steve. Those groans and whines wafted to his ears.

“Fuck me,” Bucky said. “Oh fuck, Steve, fuck me, fuck me.” Bucky pushed back, shoving his ass into Steve’s face.

Steve bit one of Bucky’s ass cheeks, smacking the other in response.

Bucky yelped, jerking forward. The motion slipped his fingers further into Cap.

“You wanna get fucked too, Stevie?” Steve asked, moving up the bed to put Cap’s face on his thigh.

Cap reached up, pulling Steve into a sloppy, loud kiss. “Mmm, yeah I want it.”

Bucky trailed his flesh hand down Steve’s ass, pushing at his hole. Steve clamped down, jerking his body upright.

“Relax!” Bucky laughed. “I was just teasin’ you. Cause you said that you’d maybe wanna try one day.” He moved closer, slotting his body with Steve’s. Their cocks brushed together. The feeling made Steve relax, desperate for more. He wanted to bend Bucky over and fuck into him like he’d never done before. But he also knew he needed to be gentler. Cap brought a whole other dynamic to the three of them. They could be dirty, loud and messy when it was just two of them. Bring in a third, and things got tender. Steve liked that.

“I-it’s not like I won’t try—one day.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asked, stroking himself. “You really mean it?”

Steve nodded. “S’not like it matters, right? Like you said,” he leaned forward to kiss Bucky softly, “it’s just a preference.”

Steve gasped when a warmth enveloped his cock. A perfectly trained and eager tongue played with his tip, circling it. He looked down, breathing fast. Cap was sucking his dick, looking up at him with those black eyes that wanted to be told what a good job he was doing. The yearning there in that face was so painfully evident that Steve found himself whimpering now.

Bucky moved behind Cap, pushing that pretty ass apart as he lubed himself up. “He’s a slut, yeah?”

“J-Jesus,” Steve gasped. “I mean—I expect that with me but not—”

Bucky laughed, pushing into Cap slowly. Cap moaned around Steve’s cock, sucking harder. “You really think Stevie ain’t into hard shit? He likes gettin’ fucked rough.”

Steve gasped when Cap started kissing his tip, over and over again with wet, teasing kisses and a flicking tongue. “Thought m-maybe we could—oh fuck—go slower tonight?”

Bucky rocked into Cap, long rolling thrusts that punctuated that whole body—every shadow flickered along his toned stomach as he moved, like a dance. “You want that, Stevie? Slow?”

Cap whined around Steve’s cock, pulling it down deep into his mouth. Tears were in his eyes now, slipping soundlessly down his cheeks. Steve knew those tears. They were the tears of a man in pure heaven.

Steve almost doubled over. He grit his teeth, hating everything about what he was about to do. He pulled back, pulling himself out of Cap’s perfect mouth. Cap whined, reaching back to grab Bucky’s hand.

“Wh—”

“You’re too good,” Steve said, cupping Cap’s face. “M’gonna come too fast if you do that.”

Cap leaned up on his knees. Bucky’s arms held him back against his body. Together they rocked into each other, Bucky’s metal hand around Cap’s cock, and his dick deep in that pretty ass. They were more than gorgeous. Steve had a hard time looking away to walk around the bed. He grabbed the lube, applying a generous amount before flicking his fingers down along Bucky’s hole to get it ready. Bucky didn’t like getting worked open too much. He liked the pain of Steve forcing himself inside.

Bucky extended out a leg to give Steve easier access. He turned, kissing Steve’s beard. “You know what I love about your beard?”

“What?”

“It leaves the best sensations—like you’re still down there eatin’ me out.”

“B-Bucky, oh _fuck_ ,” Cap moaned.

“We pretty?” Bucky asked, squeezing Cap’s ass.

“Yeah.”

“Gonna ever let me fuck you like this?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I said one day.” He lined his cock up to Bucky’s ass, pushing in a little faster than Bucky’s body really wanted.

Bucky yelped, biting down on Cap’s shoulder. He rocked down into Cap with fiercer snaps of the hips.

“Too much?” Steve asked, worried.

“N-not enough,” Bucky gritted out.

Steve melted into Bucky’s body, letting his cock slip all the way inside. They moved in a slower rhythm, letting Cap’s whines and gasps fill the room. Bucky’s ass squeezed and pulled Steve deeper in. He cupped Bucky’s pecs, squeezing and rolling his fingers over the nipples.

Bucky snapped his hips back, swiveling them.

“Oh, _fuck_ , Bucky.” Steve jerked his hips forward, burying himself as deep as he could inside his lover. “You’re so good, baby—so fuckin’ good.”

Bucky craned his neck, and Steve met him with a kiss. Cap’s face was fully pushed into the bed, his whines muffled as he clawed at the bedsheets. The way he arched his back was sin and Steve wanted to know what it felt like to smack that man’s ass redder than a fucking cherry—one day.

Right now, they were all making love. It wasn’t perfect. Their rhythm felt off-balance sometimes, Steve’s cock slipped out of Bucky and he’d have to push it back in, but despite the imperfection, it was perfect. They were all _three_ together. And that’s the thought that made Steve’s balls clench up as his orgasm pushed through him. He bit down on Bucky’s shoulder, groaning as he fucked faster into his lover.

Bucky folded forward, collapsing onto Cap’s back. “T-turn around baby.”

Steve breathed heavily, watching as Cap did as Bucky asked. He wrapped his lips around Bucky’s cock, letting Bucky fuck almost violently into his mouth. Bucky grabbed Steve’s hair, brushing his thumb over his cheekbone. He had enough time to crawl over to grab a blue undershirt before Bucky was crying out, coming down Cap’s throat.

They folded into each other, kissing and lapping at each other’s faces, noses, necks. Cap straddled Bucky, pushing him down into the bed. He looked up, biting his lip at a deceptive feign of innocence. “Steve, c’mere.”

Steve sighed, nodding. “This is payback for tryin’ to kill you, yeah?”

Cap nodded, rocking his cock up and down Bucky’s abdomen. “I think you owe me something.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Steve leaned forward, swooping in for a kiss. Cap kissed back eagerly, any reservation or fear completely gone from their minds. It didn’t matter that they shared the same face, or were somehow identical counterparts made in different worlds. They were unique in their own ways. They had much to learn from each other.

Cap kissed Steve one last time, still rocking back and forth on top of Bucky. “You should suck me off.”

Steve barked out a laugh. “You’re a devious little shit.”

Cap nodded. “I’ve got the perfect position too.”

Steve just cocked a brow.

“You should get on your hands and knees. Bucky could suck you off again.” He shifted, his mouth dropping open. “And I’ve got him nice inside me, so he’s gonna feel good too.”

“I think this is the part where I tell you I told you so, Steve. Stevie’s a damn slut.”

Cap shrugged. “I like sex! Fuck off.”

Bucky rocked his hips up, causing Cap to gasp, his eyes fluttering closed.

Steve looked to Bucky, shrugging. “Is it okay?”

“Get your cock in my mouth right now, Steve Rogers”

Steve crawled over Bucky, letting his half-mast cock fall before his lover’s face. He leaned down over Bucky’s body, licking at Cap’s cock. He laughed when the man shivered in front of him, rocking up and down on Bucky’s cock.

He took Cap’s tip into his mouth, stifling a moan when Bucky did the same to his. He didn’t care if he came again or not. He liked the intimacy of them all locked together like this—in some strange circle.

He sucked at Cap’s cock, tracing his tongue along the veins that pulsed with every heartbeat. He bobbed up and down, his hands slipping under Cap to finger alongside Bucky’s cock each time Cap rose upward.

“Oh, fuck, Steve!” Bucky moaned, pulling Steve’s dick back into his mouth. He muffled another moan, rocking up harder into Cap.

Cap bobbed his head, making those addictive whines that Steve wished he could make one day. The complete loss of control was hypnotic. Steve wanted to give Bucky that. He wanted to give both of them that complete trust, but wasn’t sure even where to begin.

Baby steps. Right now, he had a beautiful cock in his mouth and a gorgeous pair of lips wrapped around his dick.

Cap came in short bursts down Steve’s throat. He cried out a slew of _fuck me’s_ and Steve was all-too-ready to say when. There was a forbidden attraction developing between them. One of taboo that both seemed more than eager to explore.

Steve didn’t think he’d come again, but he found himself groaning into Cap’s thigh and fucking into Bucky’s mouth minutes later. Bucky eagerly swept his tongue over it, pulling the come down into his throat.

Steve rolled off them, chest heaving and sweat making him sticky. He listened to their sounds as they kissed and rocked into each other. He didn’t care that they kept going. If he was buried inside Bucky, he’d probably keep going too.

Bucky whined, pulling Cap’s lips to his as he came again.

Exhaustion overtook Steve in a way it hadn’t in a long time. He slid from the bed, using shaky legs to guide him into the bathroom to clean off. He should’ve showered, but the effort was far too much for him.

When he came back, Bucky was already curled up in Cap’s arms, smiling in that beautiful fucked-out way he did.

“Come snuggle with us,” Cap said, reaching out. “We’ll change the sheets tomorrow.”

Steve crawled back into bed, getting under the rusty red sheets. Bucky folded into him, putting his head on his shoulder. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too.” Steve kissed Bucky’s sweaty forehead. He tensed up when he felt Cap move closer, reaching over Bucky to grab Steve’s arm. They looked at each other, smiling.

Cap’s face was dusted red. “Night, Steve.”

“Night, _Stevie._ ”

* * *

Cap was in the living room, wearing a pair of jogging shorts with a bowl of cereal on his chest when Steve came into the room.

“Did you already go for a run?” he asked.

“Yeah. I tried to wake you but you n’ Buck were pretty folded into each other, so I just left. That’s okay—right?”

Steve sat on the coffee table, smiling. “That’s fine. I’m not really one for jogging anyway.”

“We should lift weights together then? It’s good for you.” Cap leaned forward to put the empty cereal bowl on the coffee table.

“That your subtle way of asking me on a date?” Steve teased.

Cap’s ears went red. He averted his gaze, staring at his gym shoes. “I uh—I feel like I need to explain somethin’ to you.”

Steve blinked.

“Last night—”

Steve’s heart started to collapse inward.

“No! I mean,” Cap sat forward, his eyes understanding the pain that Steve’s face showed. “I liked it. It was great! I just mean that when I get like that—I _get like that_. I mean, all—uh—all submissive or whatever.”

“Oh.”

“I just—I didn’t know if that’d make you think differently of me.” He bit his lip, staring at the cereal bowl. He jerked his leg awkwardly, clearly guarded. Things had progressed, but things weren’t perfect. It was going in the right direction, but it wasn’t _quite_ there yet.

“What?” Steve sat forward. “Why would that make me think differently?”

Cap shrugged. “I mean, the way I get.  I trust Bucky to make me feel that way. I wanna trust you like that too. I’m just—I dunno. I’m a lot to deal with. I get—needy.”

Steve smiled. “And you think you’ve gotta apologize for expressing that side of yourself?”

Cap shrugged again.

“It’s just a preference,” Steve said. “Doesn’t change who you are.”

Cap smiled, relaxing. He laced his fingers with Steve’s, caressing his thumb over a knuckle. “So, could we really go on a date and lift weights?” He still looked tense.

“You’re such a bro.”

Cap smiled that dorky smile of his, nodding. “So it’s a date then?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Sure, it’s a damn date.” He stood up, looking into the kitchen. “I’m gonna make coffee for Bucky. You want anything else?”

“Football game later? You could make those uh—the bacon wrapped water chestnut things like you said you wanted?”

Steve nodded. “Sounds good, Stevie. You don’t—you don’t mind me callin’ you that, right?”

Cap smiled. “I like it. S’kinda my name now anyway.”

Steve went into the kitchen to start Bucky’s coffee. He’d never thought he’d find someone after James. He reached up to his chest, tracing the tattoo he’d gotten after James died. Bucky was his world now. But Cap—Stevie? He was part of that world now. Steve wanted to love him too. Maybe one day they could. Steve found himself holding onto something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He had hope. And for now? That’s all he needed.

**End**

* * *

 

 

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Artist's Note:**  
>  We're sorry about the wait for this guys, the summer was crazy. Thank you for being so patient with us! 
> 
> Idk if she'll ever read this, but I'd like to thank [Rumy](http://thesafesthands.tumblr.com/). She's the reason I even posted the prompt for this that originally caught L1av's eye, and the reason this ending even exists. Idk if L1av and I would be as close as we are if it weren't for this story. So THANK YOU. ❤
> 
> If you're planning to move along to chapter 6 BRING TISSUES. It's not a pure angst fest. I like to think it's hopeful and bittersweet, but you'll have to read to decide for yourself. We totally understand if you don't think you can do it. 
> 
> Please let us know what you think of this ending!!
> 
> I'm going to be doing a master post containing all the art for this story, so keep an eye out for that Tumblr people.
> 
> \- Hope
> 
>  
> 
> Add us on Tumblr!!  
> [L1av is ghostbuckster for halloweenie!](http://ghostbuckster.tumblr.com/)  
> and  
> [hopeless--geek](http://hopeless--geek.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	6. Wake Up Alice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **REMEMBER!!!!! THIS IS THE DEATH ROUTE! YOU DO NOT NEED TO READ THIS CHAPTER!!! CHAPTER 5 IS THE HAPPY ENDING! THIS IS THE BITTERSWEET/NOT EVERYONE MAKES IT OUT ALIVE ENDING!!!!! WARNING, WARNING, WARNING!!!!! TO FURTHER ILLUSTRATE THIS, THERE IS A SMOKING SKULL BEFORE THE CHAPTER CHANGES INTO THE DEATH ROUTE! SO IF YOU HAVE READ THE LIVING ROUTE, YOU CAN SKIP DOWN TO THE SKULL TO SEE THE DIFFERENT ENDING AND EPILOGUE!!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! HAPPY CRYING!**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Lastly, this completed fic is becoming a physical novel with bonus material (more art and more scenes!) as well as putting the images with the respective scenes. If that is something you would be interested in, please contact Li or Hope on their tumblr!! Tumblr links are all over this fic in the author notes. (UPDATE) We have decided not to pursue this anymore due to us not making any money off it (we never wanted to in the first place) and actually losing money to provide the physical copies (this is the issue). :( We're so sorry if anyone was looking forward to this.

 

_I wanna be your last, first kiss_

_That you'll ever have_

_I wanna be your last, first kiss._

**Before**

**W** hen Steve woke, James was sitting up. His hair was ruffled and spiked in various directions, his face splotchy from what looked like crying, and he was obsessively wringing his fingers. Steve sat up, looking out at the ocean’s darkness before back to his husband’s face.

“Hey,” he said, voice scratchy and unused from sleep. “What’s wrong, love?”

James flinched, swallowing. He turned to Steve, a strained smile on his face.

“C’mere.” Steve pulled James into him, wrapping his arms around his lover. He ran his fingers up and down James’ skin, feeling the brand on his upper arm. He traced it idly, humming. “You don’t sleep so good anymore.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” James said. He shifted against Steve, reaching up to cup Steve’s head, and stroked his fingers through his hair. Steve was turning into warm butter from the delightful sensation.

“You know you can tell me anything.” Steve dropped his chin atop James’ head, staring out into the black ocean waters.

“I’m afraid.”

Steve closed his eyes, waiting. James spent a lot of his time living in fear. Perhaps it was the war, maybe it was their brief time as supersoldiers on the run for their lives. Either way, he’d never stopped being afraid. It had become a challenge to know what exactly was concerning him at the moment. It always changed day by day.

Steve let James continue caressing the back of his head for just a minute longer before reaching up and bringing James into his lap. “Why?” He pressed kiss after kiss to his husband’s temple.

“The serum didn’t make me as strong as you. The way people look at you and the way people look at me are two different things.”

Steve squeezed James, holding his husband’s warmth in his lap. He never wanted to let go. He wouldn’t if he had a choice. Ever since they’d received the serum, they’d been fighting. Steve sometimes thought what it’d be like to retire somewhere in the back hills of the world. They could hunt for their own food, plant a little garden and just _exist_ together. He scoffed at himself. James would never let Steve leave BLADE. There was a dark smile on those red lips whenever Steve had to show he was stronger. James was proud of him, and he _liked_ watching Steve effortlessly take out people who challenged him, or people he challenged. Sometimes James even went out of his way to challenge people _for_ Steve to take down.

“Whaddya mean?” Steve asked.

“I mean I’m always gonna have to cling to you. I’m never gonna feel safe.”

“James.” Steve sighed, turning the man around in his lap. He wrapped James’ legs around his torso, getting their bodies as close as he could. He loved James’ legs. He’d spend hours kissing them if he could, just taking the time to admire the power that rested beneath the skin. James spent his entire post-serum existence comparing himself to everyone else. He never saw how strong he was. “You don’t have to cling. You know I’d rip everyone’s heads off for you. Someone looks at you the wrong way, you just gotta tell me.”

“But that’s the problem Steve!” James bit his lip, tracing his fingers along Steve’s sternum. “I’m always gonna have to come to you. I don’t get it. You were a tiny thing when I first met you.”

Steve smiled, recalling the first time he’d met James. He’d introduced himself and James had simply sneered at him before turning to someone else. He’d made up his mind he’d win this guy over that day and he’d done it. It had been the proudest moment in Steve’s life when James had smiled at him. The first night they’d danced… The first night they’d _kissed_.

“I don’t get why it made you stronger than me. Shouldn’t we be equal?”

“We are equal, love.” Steve cupped James’ face, peering into those dark eyes so full of confusion and fear. Steve hated how James was always so afraid. It was a very specific kind of torture watching the one you loved the most and knowing you couldn’t cure their fears.  “I love you more than anything else in the world. You know that right?”

James nodded, pressing his lips to one of Steve’s palms. The act got Steve’s heart fluttering. James’ lips were softer than silk, warm and designed for kisses. Steve had to bite his lips to keep from pulling James down into the bed to kiss those pretty lips.

“And you know that I’m always gonna do everything I can for you, right?” Steve traced his fingers over James’ lips, still letting the man hold them against his face. James playfully bit at Steve’s palm, a smile curving his lips.

Steve laughed, rocking up into James. Who needed sleep when he could just make love to his husband all night? And they did usually. Night after night they’d crawl between the sheets and Steve would give everything to James. If James wanted it rough, it got rough. If he wanted it soft and slow, that’s what Steve would give. Steve didn’t have much in life, but he had a body that loved another and he’d spend every moment he could giving himself to James.

“You okay now?”

James sighed, looking over at a picture in the corner of the dark room. Their wedding picture. James stared at it for so long that Steve thought he’d not heard the question. “Yeah.” James leaned in, pressing a feather-light kiss to Steve’s mouth. “Yeah I’m good.”

“Love me,” Steve said, pressing kisses to James’ bare shoulder. “All I wanna do is love you.”

James answered by gripping Steve’s shoulder blades and scratching down his back. His grin was sly as his pupils expanded.

Steve didn’t know it would be the last night he’d ever make love to his husband. Had he known, he would’ve gone at it gentler. He would’ve taken his time and made sure James really knew just how much love Steve had to give. If only he’d known what would happen the next day.

Maybe he could’ve stopped it.

* * *

 **S** teve walked into the mess hall. James had been suspiciously absent when he’d woken and he’d been suspiciously absent throughout morning rounds and a mission debriefing. He found Natasha, sitting with Clint and Maria. “Hey, have you seen James?”

Natasha shook her head, shrugging. “He missed our weekly training session.”

“Huh?”

Natasha smiled like a shark. “He’s been asking me to train him. So I’ve shown him a few tricks.”

“We think he’s getting ready to challenge someone,” Maria said, leaning forward. “Careful, your little husband may outrank you.”

It amazed Steve that Maria said it like he’d care. James could be an admiral and Steve wouldn’t care who ranked above whom. Though, he wouldn’t deny the warmth of pride that blossomed in his veins and floated through his body. James had been nervous last night. Maybe he just needed a pep talk before he went to his challenge. Steve then jarred straight up, his eyes round. If James had gone to challenge someone, he could be on the floor hurt right now.

“I’ve gotta go,” Steve said, turning around and running for the mess hall doors. He smacked right into his husband. They both shared a moment of surprise.

Steve smiled, relief filling his heart. “You’re okay!”

James pulled out a knife.

“Heard Natasha’s been helpin’ train you?” Steve disregarded the knife in James’ hands or the way he was looking at Steve, defiant and afraid. “If you wanted to challenge someone, you shoulda told me. We could’ve trained together.”

“I didn’t want you to train me.” James’ voice was strained. He sounded like he’d been crying.

“You okay, love?” Steve reached out, but James took a step back. Steve’s skin chilled.

“I want to challenge you.”

Steve laughed. He laughed because this was his husband and the love of his life wouldn’t ask him to fight till one of them was left standing and the other was a bloody mess on the floor. They’d fought in the war together. They’d gone on the run for their lives together. They’d willingly allowed themselves to be taken in by BLADE and frozen for years before being brought out on top-secret missions. They’d gotten _married_. In what world would the love of Steve Rogers’ life _fight him_ to the death?  So he laughed.

“You sonuvabitch,” James said through gritted teeth. “You’re so smug ain’t ya? Thinkin’ I’m second best.”

“What?”

James pushed him into the mess hall.

“I challenge you,” James said again, louder so everyone in the room heard.

Steve didn’t hear it. He only heard the sounds of his heart shattering. Piece by piece, every memory he’d shared with James fell to the floor. Every smile and every soft gasp or giggle– it was stained and twisted. His love was blackened and forever cursed because in what world would James do this? He had nothing to gain from Steve except–

“Baby,” Steve whispered. “I don’t want this.” He swallowed roughly, trying to choke back tears. They’d been planning to get some time off. They were supposed to go to Africa together. This couldn’t be happening because in _what world_ would James hurt Steve so much?

They were supposed to live together, in love, till their hearts were old and their hair gray. This couldn’t happen…

“I don’t care. Get a weapon.”

Steve stood there, looking around at the expressions people wore. Brock Rumlow covered his mouth, Natasha just smiled like the lying snake she was, and even Fury was standing in a corner with an amused expression. He couldn’t undo this. Everyone would know. This couldn’t be warped into some lovers’ sparring session or even a bad fight. This was real.

And it was happening.

“Why?” Steve asked as tears blurred his vision.

James didn’t answer. “Grab a weapon.”

Steve balled up his fists, staring at them but seeing right through. This was the one person that meant anything to him. All he wanted was for this to end and for them to go back to their room and talk. “I love you. Why’re you doing this to us?!”

“Are you forfeiting your right to a weapon?” James asked. He was nervous. His body shifted back and forth and Steve could see his hand tremble around the knife.

“Yes.” Steve sobbed, tears staining his face. “I’m forfeiting my right to a weapon.” Was this the sound of the world ending? It wasn’t explosive or rumbling. There was no thunderous boom or a sheet of rain to wash them all away. It was cold silence, shifting feet and the whispers of the people around them. Had they all known? Had Steve been so oblivious that he’d missed all the warnings?

He just wanted to love James. Had that been wrong? What could Steve have done to change this? How could he have been so blind? He never wished for God to be real more than in that moment. He prayed and he prayed that this would end with them smiling through bloody teeth and kissing.

In the bottom of his heart, he knew it wouldn’t. God didn’t play favorites.

Steve nodded, signaling for the fight to officially begin. James rushed at him with a battle cry and the knife poised in his hand. Steve deflected. He didn’t feel the punches or the kicks that James tried to throw his way. He blocked them all with effortless precision. He was making a fool of James on accident. James wasn’t the best fighter, but _my God_ , could he shoot a gun. His talent had always been guns. Steve’s had always been his fists. And Steve was using those fists to block every move that James tried.

With every counter, James grew angrier and angrier. He backhanded Steve, and Steve let him. It sent him flying across the room and he skid on the floor. He contemplated just lying here and allowing James to take his life. That’s what James wanted.

How had it become like this? How’d Steve let it get here? Every night they went to sleep holding each other. Every day they woke up and their first taste was each other’s morning breath. Every shower was filled with giggles, jokes and embraces. How had this happened? When had it all become a lie?

Steve rolled as the knife came down. James meant this. He really wanted to kill Steve. Steve lurched up, getting back onto his feet. He circled James as tears clouded his vision. James knew he cried easily, which only made Steve prepared for the full-frontal attack that came at him. It was the obvious choice when his opponent thought he couldn’t see. Steve didn’t need to see to know how to fight.

Left hook, uppercut, knee to the groin. Steve took it all. He let his blood spill in the room because he felt that somehow he deserved this. James’ attacks were powerful. He wasn’t weak. Physically, he could beat almost everyone in this room, give or take a few like Natasha or Fury. He was jacked up on supersoldier serum and everyone knew it. He’d won all his challenges and boy did people ever come for him.

And maybe that was the problem. James lived in fear of the next challenge. People saw him in Steve’s shadow and they hated him for it. Envy, disrespect, the need for Steve’s approval. There were many reasons why people would challenge James and not Steve. James was– beatable. He messed up on missions or during sparring Steve would pin him over and over to the mat. People saw it. They filed it away and used it later. James always barely made it out of his challenges alive. Steve had spent countless nights stitching him up and kissing the anger off his love’s face. And now here they were…

Steve was sent fumbling when James performed a flawless roundhouse kick, slamming down his foot on Steve’s face. He felt his nose burst with blood as he found himself acquainted with the floor again.

James was breathing heavily, watching Steve for any sign of a counterattack.

Steve wanted to just lie there. Maybe death wouldn’t be so bad. He’d killed so many, what was wrong with joining them?

When James came again with a killing blow, Steve’s survival instincts kicked in. He wasn’t weaker than James. He was stronger, faster, smarter and he needed to live to help these people _survive_. James wouldn’t do that. He was selfish and out for himself. Steve believed in BLADE and he wouldn’t let this world fall to more war, even if the way he achieved it was with more killing and fear.

So Steve twisted his body and grabbed at James’ arms. Steve saw the moment flash through James’ eyes when he realized he’d lost. Those big, beautiful eyes stared back at Steve, showing his own reflection in them. He twisted James’ wrist, gritting his teeth as the knife slowly went closer and closer to James’ body.

“Why?” Steve sobbed, tears streaming.

James just clenched his jaw and released his grip. The knife plummeted into his chest. He gasped once, twice…and then fell to the floor.

Steve scrambled to scoop him into his arms. He cradled his dying lover, watching olive skin turn ghostly pale faster than Steve had ever known. He heard the whispers around them and even the clapping. This was supposed to be a joyous occasion for the victor, but not to Steve. He watched his heart, his light slowly get snuffed out. James reached out, grabbing Steve’s hand. Steve squeezed back. This was his husband. This was the reason he fought and now Steve watched with horror-filled eyes as the life slowly left James’ body.

James felt so solid in Steve’s arms. He was alive, gasping but alive. His eyes were scared and full of tears. This was the body Steve worshipped. This was the man he’d vowed to protect. He’d failed.

Even in the moment of winning, Steve lost.

“E-end of the...” James offered a weak crooked smile.  He closed his eyes and shortly after, his breathing stopped.

Steve stared at his lover’s lifeless body. A body that used to dance with his at midnight, that used to hum when James was happy or seek comfort in Steve’s arms when he was sad. There was no soul anymore, no life or energy.

“No no no no no,” Steve whispered, caressing James’ face. “Baby,  baby, no. Please…”

Steve felt warm wetness soak into his lap. Everyone leaves out what happens to a body after death. It urinates on itself. Steve was soaked in James’ blood and urine but he still wouldn’t move. He expected to wake up from this nightmare and then he could bury himself in James’ arms and press his nose against that beautiful chest. Nothing happened. James was still. Steve was itchy and sticky. Shock subsided, leaving his nerves tender and exposed to the cruelties that engulfed them.

He screamed. He screamed so violently that it was as if someone was digging their nails into the back of his throat and just _ripping_ down. He rocked back and forth, agony pushing needles into his skin. James was dead.

He’d killed James. He’d killed his husband.

Someone put their hand on his shoulder. Steve moved to immediately bring his hand down against the weak spot in the bone. He heard the crack and the shriek as he’d broken the person’s arm.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.”

Someone must’ve ushered the broken-armed person out because the room fell silent again. Steve just stroked James’ face, feeling silent tears fall from his eyes. “We were supposed to get away for a bit.” He swallowed. “You was gonna pick the place. Said Africa was nice.” He saw his tears fall against James’ skin, like James was suddenly crying and not Steve. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.”

They let him stay there until he was shivering from the wetness in his lap and the itch was unbearable. People moved around him. Dinner was served, the mess was cleaned– except where he sat with James in his arms. Heartbreak didn’t cover it. His world didn’t feel shattered. It was obliterated. He’d been ripped from reality and dropped into a living hell. His worst nightmare played out before him.

He laughed softly, tracing a finger over James’ face. It amazed Steve how the body could go from such _life_ to death so quickly. It was so fragile. Bodies were so strong and yet they could be reduced to nothing in mere seconds. He could chop up a man and a body wouldn’t even be recognizable. He could drown someone, set them aflame. Bodies were so weak.

He was weak.

He’d lost the love of his life to fear and jealousy because he was too weak to do anything about it. Perhaps he even ignored it. After all, in what world would two people who loved each other come to end like this? Steve had done something to make James need this.

Steve finally stood up, James’  body was already starting to undergo rigor mortis. He had to force the stiffening muscles to bend in his arms. The room fell silent around him, watching. He made his way to the door before turning to his commanding officer. “Tomorrow. I challenge you.” It didn’t matter that Schmidt was a good man who had noble goals.

Never again would Steve be weak. He’d be strong for both himself and James.

* * *

 **B** LADE didn’t have funerals. Steve had to fight until he was blue in the face for James’ body not to be thrown to the sharks. _Shark fodder_. That’s all anyone was. Natasha even had the audacity to ask if she could watch…

It was that day he knew she planned to challenge him one day. He’d welcome it. Part of him wondered if she hadn’t set James up in the first place. He would reach for any theory that didn’t point to the obvious.

This was James’ decision and he’d done it on his own.

Steve stood there among the gray trees. They weren’t _naturally_ this color. But the ash from the decimated surroundings collected here and painted the whole area gray. He’d laid out James body on a pier of plywood that he’d collected. He held the lighter, but he couldn’t do it. He’d already stabbed James. Hadn’t he suffered enough? He wondered if James would be upset that his body would be burned. He wondered if James was even out there somewhere. Was Hell real? Was James there? He said he was always meant for it. They all were.

“A burial ceremony and you didn’t invite me?”

Steve stiffened when he heard Tony’s voice. He’d looked over at the man– looking at the healing wounds on his face, courtesy of James. “Didn’t think you’d care.”

“I always care when someone gets special treatment.” He walked around the plywood. “They think you’re special.”

Steve didn’t answer.

“I think you’re special too. We could be _friends_. Now that he’s gone.”

Steve sneered. He wanted to throw the lighter at Tony’s stupid ugly face.

“Cap– Can I call you Cap? I mean, you’re a captain now. Heard you turned Schmidt’s face into a puree. That sounds uglier than mine. Nice little gift your late husband gave me.”

Steve licked at his lips. He’d been unnecessarily violent with Schmidt. But to get his private funeral, he had to end Schmidt’s life. Those were Fury’s orders, and Steve knew James deserved better than _shark fodder_. It was the least Steve could do for the man he’d failed.

“Look. You’re a powerful person and I’m a powerful person. We don’t have to be friends if you don’t want. We can just– ya know– help each other out.”

“With what?”

“Not now. You loved him. I hated him, but you loved him. Send ‘im off and then we’ll talk. There’s an actual restaurant about 300 miles out. Wanna go? I’ve got a jet.”

“Stop talking.” Steve moved up to the pier, biting the inside of his cheek. He didn’t want someone here on this final send off. “I’ll meet you in the jet.”

“Sure,” Tony said. “And ya’know. I may have hated him, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad for what happened. So– for what it’s worth– I’m sorry for your loss.”

Steve didn’t expect the warm that filled his heart. He turned to Tony, looking at the weeping scars on his face. His other side though, that side showed sympathy and Steve appreciated that. He nodded before turning back to James’ body.

“Bye baby. I’ll always love you.” He laughed, holding out the lighter. “Maybe next time I’ll do better.”

He tossed the lighter, watching it engulf James’ body. In the heat of the flames, Steve’s soul died. His nerves froze over, his mind calmed and his body just _began_. A life without a soul was a harrowing experience.

But Steve would endure– because that’s what he’d always done. He’d always simply just–

– _survived_.

* * *

**Now**

Steve sat back, sucking air into his bruised lungs. He looked around the room at the soldiers– he assumed they were soldiers– around them. Most were dead, some were knocked out. He looked up at the machine they’d come through. Pym and HYDRA had to get to work with fixing it now. He hoped this side didn’t fry each time.

Scott went to the controls, pulling out his little notebook that Pym gave him. They were certain communications would be severed (they were) and that meant they were on their own on this side. So Scott had instructions to go through and he and Nat were now reading through them.

“You good?” Sam asked.

Steve looked around the room again, still gasping back air. He wasn’t tired physically. There was an emotional exhaustion that was permanent in his bones. He smiled sadly at Sam. From Sam’s sympathetic expression, Steve knew he understood the true answer. Steve was never good. Not without Bucky.

“Everything’s in working condition,” Scott said as he and Nat came over. “We grab Bucky and we pray that Pym and our new biffles got the other side repaired.”

“Check to see if there’s any radio communication,” Steve instructed. “We need to find where they’ve got Bucky.”

After almost an hour of searching this base, they’d found the communication satellite and Scott was able to pretend he was one of the BLADE soldiers informing someone tried to come over and they were promptly defeated. Whoever was on the receiving end seemed to buy it but then the conversation was over before Scott could even ask where Bucky was.

“I’m sorry!” Scott said, eyebrows raised. “It’d be weird! I mean– that’s exactly what they probably think we’d say! We can’t say what they think we’re gonna say!”

“Tic Tac,” Sam said. “Stop talkin’ man.”

Scott promptly shut up.

“Okay.” Steve heaved a sigh. “We get the quinjet to full size, look over this base for any information– computers and all. We’ve got one goal here.”

“Or,” Natasha said as she walked up to one of the soldiers on the ground. “We could just wait till this guy wakes up and see if he knows something?” She shrugged, like the magnitude of her intelligence wasn’t impressive. Steve was impressed by it at least.

“Natasha,” Steve said. “Have I ever told you how amazing you are?”

She smirked.

* * *

An underwater base wasn’t exactly a surprise to Steve. The largest issue was that the ocean was large and the soldier refused to tell them what kind of defenses it had. The only thing they could do is all dress in BLADE uniforms and hope that their counterparts weren’t obviously hanging around.

“Can we shrink the quinjet again?” Sam asked as they soared over the ocean.

“Yeah, the issue is how do we get down under the water? This thing wasn’t designed for that.” Scott leaned back in his chair, idly playing with one of his shrinking disks. “More importantly, how do we get them to open up?”

“They use sub transport.” Sam was hunched over a laptop they’d taken from the other base. “We could find one of their ports and take a sub in?”

Steve sighed. His impatience was weighing against him. He didn’t know if Bucky was safe or if he was being held against his will. He only had the hopes that Bucky was still alive because of the other Steve. Anger swelled up in his stomach. The thought of that other guy made Steve’s skin burn. He was a pathetic imposter and Steve couldn’t imagine the disappointment Bucky must be feeling. There had to have been hope once when Bucky saw that guy. Steve wonders how upset Bucky was when he found out he was in another world.

“Might be easier,” Nat said. “We can’t take the quinjet underwater. It’s not like a helicarrier.” She looked to Steve for approval.

“How long’ll it take though?”

“There’s a port fifteen minutes out,” Sam said, pointing to something on the map. “Also, I’ve got direct coordinates to their main base now. We’re about three hours out.”

“Okay,” Steve said. “Let’s get a submarine.”

“I feel so Russian right now,” Natasha said. “It’s like the Cold War all over again.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You weren’t there for that.”

“Neither were you,” she said back, smirking.

“Man, a sub sounds good right now,” Scott said, rubbing his stomach. “I’m starvin’.”

“We’ll get Subway after this is all done. My treat even.” Steve clasped Scott on the shoulder.

“I’m holdin’ you to that, Cap.”

* * *

They’d maneuvered the sub into the docks relatively easily. There’d been no passwords or special instructions. Steve was nervous about getting off though. Once the people in the base saw their faces, they’d either figure they were from another world or they’d be asking questions that Steve didn’t have answers to.

Natasha was on board for pretending to be her other self. She claimed she knew exactly how to behave– which downright terrified Steve.

“Okay, we infiltrate under the pretense that we’re our other selves,” Steve said. “Don’t attack anyone unless your cover’s blown. We keep in radio contact if we have to split up. Ideally, I don’t think that’s the best idea for this mission. This place is big.” Steve looked to the schematics on Sam’s hijacked laptop. “We’ll search the brig first and then make our way to the barracks.”

“What if we do get split up?” Sam asked.

“Stay in radio contact and meet back here. Everyone ready?” Steve scanned over his friends’ faces as they nodded.

They exited the submarine, ducking their heads and trying to blend in as much as they could. There weren’t many down here, so they headed to the elevators without issue.

The brig was guarded and Steve saw no other way in than through the guards. He clenched his jaw, walking forward.

“Captain, you shaved?” one of the guards asked.

Steve’s eyes widened before he reached up and caressed his chin. “It was hot.”

The guard shrugged, relaxing. “Bucky ain’t down here no more,” the guard said. “But you know that.”

Steve swallowed, showing no sign that his heart was on the verge of giving out. “I know. I came down for uh– I needed to see–”

“Wait,” the guard said. “Who’s this guy?” He pointed to Scott.

“Oh.” Steve blinked. “That’s Scott. He’s our new–”

Natasha was already on the guard and pulling out her steel wire to strangle the other one. Once they both dropped, she shrugged, looking at Steve, Sam and Scott’s startled expressions.

“Scott doesn’t have a double here. They’ll figure it out eventually.” She shrugged.

“So barracks?” Sam asked as they about faced toward the elevators.

“Bucky was in the brig.” Steve pressed the up button. He didn’t like knowing there was endless ocean above and around them. This whole place had a dark, dingy look to it and it was cold. “I dunno if they’d just put him in the barracks.”

“Then where else? Unless he’s gettin’ executed?” Scott said lackadaisically.

Steve rounded on him, nostrils flaring.

“I mean!” Scott recoiled. “That’s just a guess! I don’t think that other Steve-guy would let that happen!”

The elevator dinged and they got on. Steve sighed, holding the door open button. They needed to devise a plan. This place was too big to just walk into and expect to find Bucky with ease. “We need to split up.”

“What? You said that wasn’t a good idea,” Sam said.

“I know, but this place is huge. Scott, you and Nat take the two floors above here. I’ll go with Sam to the barracks. If anyone figures it out, fight. Try to avoid it at all costs though.”

Natasha nodded. Scott looked like he was going to vomit.

“We need to find Bucky,” Steve reminded them. “Once we have him, I don’t care if we blow this place up to escape. Once he’s safe, we leave.”

* * *

Bucky sat across from Brock Rumlow. He’d apparently gone off hiding in Tony Stark’s lab in an incubation tube. Tony, naturally, had found him and told him Steve wasn’t out to kill him. After Jack talked to him, Brock finally came out of hiding and agreed to look after Bucky while Steve was away.

Bucky hadn’t been out of this room for three days. He wondered where Steve went and if he needed to be worried about it. He’d tried to kill Bucky’s Steve once. Was that still on his radar? At this point, it wouldn’t surprise Bucky. Steve would do anything to keep him. He clearly wasn’t above cold-blooded murder.

Bucky nibbled on an apricot, watching Brock shuffle a deck of cards. They played more cards than Bucky thought he’d ever done in his life– World War II and all.

“Is there a Peggy Carter in this world?”

“A who?”

Bucky sighed, dropping the apricot pit. “Nevermind I guess. She was a girlfriend of Steve’s.”

Brock laughed. Bucky cocked a brow in response.

“I guess it makes sense that your Steve’s straight and ours ain’t.”

Bucky’s heart squeezed. He knew that, but hearing it made his love for the man he left behind hurt more. It wasn’t like he could change Steve. People love who they love. Bucky didn’t even know he could fall for a man until this world’s Steve came around. He’d been in love with his Steve all these years though. He just hadn’t known it.

“Has this world ever cared? About being gay and shit?”

Brock dealt out the cards. “Not really. It’s been too focused on other shit to care about love.”

“But love’s important here too, right?” Bucky leaned forward. He knew some basics about this world, but not everything. Women were equal, gays were clearly just fine, private militaries commanded countries. He’d never understand how a world obsessed with power saw two men together as being okay. Maybe that was just his own conditioning. There’d always be a shame in him for loving his Steve the way he did, if he ever got back home.

From the looks of it, he’d probably never get that chance.

“It’s very important,” Brock said. “S’why we don’t got any anti-fraternization laws or shit.” He looked at his hand, probably weighing how he’d beat Bucky again.

A few soldiers marched down the hall. Bucky could hear their feet echoing. He furrowed his brow, staring at the heavy door. There had to be a lot of them if Bucky could hear them.

“You hear that?”

Brock shrugged. “Probably drills.”

Bucky scratched his nose, settling back. “When’s Steve supposed to get back? Where’d he go?”

“A mission. And he’ll be back today.”

“What mission?”

Brock put his cards down. He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “You gotta understand something, Bucky.” He looked up, his brown eyes focused. “You n’ Jack’re the only people who’ve ever treated me like a person.”

Bucky stilled.

“That’s important to me. I ain’t gonna forget it. But I can’t—I can’t betray Steve either. He’s my commanding officer. So I can’t tell you where he went, even if I wanna. And I do wanna.”

Bucky pushed his tongue into his teeth. He understood the spot Brock was in. He had to balance his personal life with his professional life. Bucky was a friend and Bucky wasn’t part of BLADE. Bucky was personal. Professional was BLADE and all it did. His relationship with Steve wasn’t because they were friends.

“I hate that everyone thinks so little of you,” Bucky whispered.

Brock shrugged. He looked over his shoulder at the door when someone started shouting. Bucky listened too. He couldn’t make the words out but they sounded frantic.

“Yeah well—I got you n’ Jack. I don’t need anyone else.”

Bucky smiled, nodding. The silver lining of staying in this world was that Brock was easily the nicest person he’d ever met. At least he’d have a friend to share his misery of this world with.

* * *

“Nat!” Steve said into the com. “Nat! Scott! Where are you guys?!”

Sam clicked his tongue, waiting. They’d managed to stay relatively unnoticed as they searched, but somewhere along the lines, more activity started happening and now they were pressed up together in a utilities closet. A gasket pressed into Steve’s back and he was pretty sure there was something wedged between Sam’s legs that was making the man shift awkwardly as he teetered over it.

“Something’s wrong,” Sam said.

“Fuck.”

“We got this.” The little room had a red glow. Steve could see the intensity of Sam’s gaze.

“If we go out there,” Steve said, “we’re gonna have to face them.”

Sam shrugged. “You’d risk anything for Bucky, right?”

“Not your life,” Steve replied quickly. “That’s not right of me.”

Sam nodded. He teetered over the piping again. “I wasn’t a big fan at first. You put the old best friend with the new best friend and of course there’s tension.”

Steve snorted out a laugh.

Sam smiled. “But he’s not bad. He’s loyal and he’s been tryin’ to be a better person. And you love him. So I’m here to get your boy back.”

Steve’s heart squeezed. He stared at Sam. His words weren’t profound or life-altering, but that wasn’t what mattered. Sam was offering his life willingly. It was his choice and Steve had no right to try to convince him otherwise.

“You know I love him?” Steve tilted his head to the side.

“Well if I didn’t, I do now,” Sam said, teasingly. “I think we all know how you feel about him. We were just waitin’ for you to catch up.”

“How kind.”

Sam shrugged. “Always, man.”

Steve leaned against the wall, gritting his teeth as the gasket pressed into him again. It was now or never. They were too deep behind enemy lines. Nat and Scott had gone unresponsive and now the only thing Steve could do was fight his way through this base. If he died, at least Bucky would know he came for him. That had to count for something.

“Let’s do this,” he said.

Together, they came out of the utilities closet, prepared to punch and kick anything that moved. What they were met with startled them. A ring of men and women with their weapons pointed at them. Steve found himself putting his hands up. He hadn’t expected this.

“I believe this is yours,” Natasha said as she shoved…Natasha to her knees.

Nat growled, but she hung her head, breathing heavily. Steve was surprised to see there was really no difference in hair style between the two Natashas.

“Sorry, Steve,” Scott said. “Turns out this Natasha is just as smart as ours.”

“Obviously smarter,” the Natasha of this world said. “My my. If it isn’t another Steve Rogers.” Her grin left ice in the pit of Steve’s stomach. “You wanna fight your way out of this one, Steve?”

The words were oddly familiar. Steve looked to his Nat. She cursed in Russian under her breath. Steve’s eyes widened as he remembered she’d said something similar to him once. They really were parallel worlds.

“It’s unfortunate you’re not half the woman I am, Natalia.” The other Natasha kicked Nat into the ground and pressed her boot down on the skull. Nat cried out, anger burning behind her pupils. She wiggled frantically but the other Natasha just laughed. There didn’t seem to be any kind of escape from her bonds. “You’ve got two choices Steve Rogers. Come with us peacefully, watch your friends die and then die yourself—quick. Or we can do this the hard way.”

Steve raised his fists, jerking his head to the side. “I can do this all day.”

Natasha smirked. She was nothing like his Nat. Her smile was wicked and cruel. There was too much death surrounding her. They may have shared faces, but they didn’t share souls. Just like Steve didn’t share the other Steve’s soul. They were different people who wore each other’s face.

“Glad you seem to think so.” She lifted her hand. “I challenge you, Steve Rogers to a fight to the death. You win, you and your friends can keep looking for your precious little Bucky.”

Steve’s heart churned. Bucky was alive. He was so close. Steve’s muscles tensed as he prepared for probably the hardest fight in his life. She didn’t need to be a supersoldier to kill him. She was fast, wicked smart and if his Nat was anything to go by, she was pinpoint deadly.

“You may have one weapon.” She stepped into the circle her soldiers had formed. They still had their guns raised.

Steve took his shield off his back. He longed for his regular uniform but it was back in the submarine. “This is the only thing I need.”

Natasha hummed in affirmation before getting into a fighting stance. Steve did the same, taking in a deep breath. He didn’t like the idea of killing her. His Nat was on the ground with a gun to her head. Her lip was busted open, but her eyes were defiant. Sam allowed himself to be cuffed and he was also held at gunpoint. Steve’s gaze found Scott again and he smirked as he saw a flash of something red in Scott’s hand.

Maybe this was all part of Nat and Scott’s plan… Nat wasn’t easily defeated and Scott even seemed too calm. If there was a distraction, then someone…small…could keep searching. They just had to figure out where Bucky was. Which meant Steve had to keep talking…

“Where is he?” Steve asked as he and Natasha charged into each other. She used her gauntlets to deflect his shield bash. He was holding back. He needed the information first.

“Your boyfriend?” Natasha hissed. She spun around and tried to kick him, but he deflected and sent her twisting in the air.

“Bucky.”

She sneered, standing up. “He’s in his room, locked up tight for his new Steve.” She grunted, cracking her neck. “He must have a tight ass for you both to be so interested.”

Anger burned in Steve’s eyes as he snarled. He wanted to rip into this woman for even speaking about Bucky like that. Steve looked to Scott who visibly relaxed. Steve knew it. It had been a trick! There was no way Nat would let herself get caught otherwise. The anger subsided. He wouldn’t break this woman—not now at least.

Steve just had to keep this battle drawn out enough to let Scott escape and find Bucky.

Right on cue, Scott disappeared. The soldiers momentarily panicked, breaking their circle and some shouting orders at each other. A few immediately scrambled. Natasha ran at Steve, jumping atop him and squeezing her thighs around his throat. She was screaming something but he couldn’t hear. Scott was off to find Bucky.

Everything was still okay.

* * *

“What did I tell you, Captain,” Fury said. His back was turned to Steve. “I knew bringing Barnes here was trouble.”

Steve’s jaw was clenched. His whole body was vibrating with a need to destroy the other Steve and his _friends_. They were an interesting bunch. As far as Steve knew, he’d never seen a Scott before in this world. Their Natasha was a disappointment. She had been so easily taken in. The guy with the wings was also an unknown to Steve.

“We kill them and move on.”

“Romanov has your doppelganger detained right now in a Challenge. I wonder if she’s training for the real you?”

Steve scoffed. It was entirely likely that that’s what she was doing. He wouldn’t let it phase him. Bucky had made it clear that he didn’t want this fight. Once Steve challenged Fury, maybe Natasha would think twice before challenging him. He just had to kill Fury first.

“I expect if their Rogers is anything like you, it’ll be a long fight and she may not be the one standing.”

Steve crossed his arms.

“You have to kill them all. Get down there and make sure they _all_ die. I don’t care how. Just make sure they’re ended.”

“And Bucky?”

Fury turned to Steve. His eyes were as blank and unreadable as ever. His body posture was relaxed, like he was chatting with an old friend about the weather. The other-worlders terrified Fury. The only reason Steve knew that was because of how fixated he was on them. The amount of secondary precautions inside the base was hard evidence too. Once Fury started up his tricks, Steve was pretty sure Bucky’s friends didn’t stand a chance in hell.

“I said all of them, didn’t I?”

Anger filled Steve’s lungs. He shifted, shaking his head. “You think I’d kill _him_? After all that’s happened?”

“You don’t have a choice!” Fury moved, lightning fast, to stand before Steve. “They’ll keep comin’ back and I won’t stand for that! They all die or you die with them. Take your pick, _Captain_.”

Steve stepped back, smirking. He’d secure Bucky’s safety and then he’d challenge Fury. It was now or never. He just had to kill the rest first.

“Sir yes sir,” Steve bitterly spat back.

Fury watched Steve leave. From his posture, it was clear he was calculating the probability of Steve actually listening. If Fury was as smart as Steve knew he was, then he’d know that Steve wouldn’t harm Bucky. There were cogs grinding in Fury’s mind and Steve prayed he’d stay ahead of them. He had to find Brock and tell him to get Bucky somewhere safe.

Along the way, his thoughts were focused on the other Steve. It had been a fool’s error to leave without killing him when Steve had the chance. Captain America was so utterly in love with Bucky. Steve saw it the moment they first met. Of course a Steve Rogers loved a Bucky Barnes. It seemed to be written in the fabric of reality. Steve had to make sure that Bucky _never_ found out that Captain America was here for him. He had to get him to safety, kill the Captain, kill Fury and then Steve could worry about the fallout. He just needed Bucky safe.

Once he reached their room, he pried the door open, startling both Bucky and Brock. “We have to move.”

“What?” Brock asked.

“What the fuck did I just say, Rumlow?! We have to _move_!” Steve grabbed Bucky’s arm but Bucky pulled back. Steve couldn’t hide the whimper that left him. How was Bucky so blind? How could he not see the love that Steve had for him? Steve was doing everything possible to secure Bucky’s happiness and safety. There was so much Steve was sacrificing for him. He’d watch BLADE burn before he let Bucky go.

“Why?” Bucky asked, his brow furrowed.

Steve sighed, reaching or Bucky’s hands. Bucky stepped back again. “Bucky—baby, please. It’s not safe.”

“What’s happening? We heard shouting.”

“There’s another faction.” Lies. More lies. Steve would hate himself tomorrow. Right now, he needed Bucky to believe him. It hurt Steve so much to see Bucky look at him with anger and apprehension. If only he could sit the man down and really explain his love. They’d have time. They’d take over BLADE and then there’d be time to maybe just let someone else take over. Bucky seemed so tired of fighting. Steve would give it all up for him. “They’re slaughtering everyone and it’s not safe. We’ve gotta move.”

“Which faction?” Brock stood up, reaching for his boots and tossing a pair at Bucky.

“I dunno,” Steve lied. “They’re wearing BLADE uniforms.” He looked to Bucky, his eyes pleading. “Please, Bucky. I need you safe. We’ll talk after, I swear.”

Bucky stood there, staring at the boots. His nostrils flared and tightened every so often. His gaze was locked on those boots. “You should know, I’ll do everything I can to escape you.” He stared defiantly at Steve.

Steve’s heart screamed inside him, but it was a sound only he could hear. There was too much tension to cry, so Steve just nodded. “I love you.”

Bucky started to put his boots on.

“Get him to Tony. He’s got a panic room. Stay there and I’ll come find you.” Steve was about to leave when Brock grabbed his wrist. He turned to Brock, teeth bared and snarling.

“Jack,” Brock said quickly. “Where’s Jack?”

Steve shrugged. “How should I know?” His anger dissipated.

“He needs to be safe too.” Brock shrunk in on himself. Steve whined. In moments like this, he hated himself. Brock was nothing but a sniveling welp, but he meant well. If Bucky hadn’t been there to teach Steve, maybe Steve would have never  noticed. But now Steve couldn’t just disregard Brock anymore. He was a person, and for that he deserved respect.

“I’ll find him,” Steve promised.

“You will?” Bucky asked, awe shimmering in his eyes.

Steve nodded. He wanted to reach out and tuck those beautiful brown strands behind Bucky’s ear, but he didn’t want to upset Bucky anymore.

Bucky swallowed loudly, shifting uncomfortably. “We’ll talk.”

Steve smiled. “Yeah.” Hearing those words, it was enough to make Steve feel like everything he was doing was going to be worth it.

Brock and Bucky made their way from the room and Steve went to go find Natasha and make sure Captain America finally breathed his last breath.

* * *

Steve was on his knees, panting. Natasha was much more brutal here than the Nat he was used to. He looked to his Nat, wiping blood from his lip. She winked. Steve wasn’t sure if he needed to get up again or not, but for some reason, he found himself hanging his head when the other Natasha charged again with a dagger at the ready. He was expecting something to happen. Nat had winked. Something was going to happen.

A metal clang echoed into the air. Steve looked up to see his Nat and the other Natasha standing before each other. There was surprise on Natasha’s face and a gleeful smirk on his Nat’s face.

“I’m not smart, huh?” She kicked Natasha square in the chest and sent her flying back.

The soldiers were rustling, their guns waving around menacingly. Steve grabbed his shield and threw it at them, aiming for the guns. Sam also sprung to action, his large wings deflecting gunfire as it hailed around them. He launched Red Wing and it promptly got him out of his cuffs before shooting at the guards.

Nat was fighting Natasha in hand-to-hand and Steve and Sam worked to disarm the soldiers that now completely fell apart from their circle.

“You bitch!” Natasha snarled as she leapt for Nat.

“Takes one to know one!”

Steve grabbed his shield, bringing it in front of him as a soldier rained fire on him. He peeked out to see Red Wing hovering over him. The guy was now dead on the floor.

“Nat had a plan?” Sam asked.

“Nat had a plan.” Together they joined their devious companion.

Natasha laughed, taking something out of her utility belt and smashing it on the floor. It was a smoke grenade. Steve, Sam and Nat all ran from the smoke, covering their faces. When it dissipated, Natasha was gone.

“You were never gonna tell me gettin’ my ass kicked was part of the plan, were you?” Steve asked as they started opening the barrack doors one by one.

“Nope!” Natasha said when she opened her door. “Scott, have you found anything yet?” she asked into the comms.

_“I’ve got visual on Barnes! He’s being transported by Brock Rumlow. And you’ve got company!”_

“Who?” Steve asked.

_“Your evil twin!”_

Steve balled his hands into fists. “So that’s how it’s gonna be.”

“Nat, get to Scott’s location. Sam, get into a room and use Red Wing to monitor her.”

“But what about–”

“I’ll be fine.” Steve said as Nat used one of Scott’s anti-shrink rounds and tossed Steve’s uniform at him. “This is personal.”

Steve ran into a room and quickly changed while Sam and Nat went as ordered. He felt a lot better in his uniform, with its armor and padding. The BLADE uniforms were little more than a shirt and a pair of slacks. He heard Red Wing soar down the long hall and then all was quiet again. When he came out, he saw his counterpart walking calmly. He was entirely alone.

“I guess it’s just you n’ me,” he said.

Steve nodded. “Guess it is.” He pressed his shoulders back, feeling the lip of his shield. He was comforted by its presence, considering the other Steve had a longsword with him that was casually draped over a shoulder.

“I won’t let you take him away from me. You didn’t hafta die, _Cap_. But you just couldn’t let it go, could you?”

Steve grinned, shrugging. “He’s my friend.”

The other Steve sneered. “You have no idea do you?”

Steve blinked.

He raised his sword, staring at his own reflection. “He’s in love with you. So much so that he won’t love me—no matter how hard I try.” His voice wavered, like a man in mourning.

Steve suddenly lost the ability to formulate words. Bucky loved him? He loved him…back? All those years of hidden feelings when they were growing up, all those stolen looks or the nights Bucky slept over and Steve felt guilty as he huddled in the corner. Bucky had loved him too?

The train… Steve’s heart coiled inward. He gasped, steadying himself. He couldn’t lose focus. He needed to stay alert for Bucky’s sake. They had a conversation that was over 70 years past due. Steve needed to make sure he’d be there to have that conversation.

The other Steve pointed his sword at Steve, his eyes deadly. “I’m going to remove you so he won’t have a choice but to stay with me.”

Steve threw his shield, watching the other Steve deflect with the sword and it came back to Steve. “You done talking yet?”

They charged at each other, sword extended, shield at the ready. The clash of metal on metal was loud and rang in Steve’s ear. His whole body vibrated at the intensity of power behind the other Steve’s swings. His hand was still trembling when he pulled back.

“Sure, I’m done talkin’.”

They charged again.

* * *

Bucky sat on the floor in Tony’s panic room. It was inside one of his cylinders and the smell of electricity hung in the air like baked sugar. He watched Brock pace the room, clearly worried about Jack. Bucky understood that fear. He felt it every time Steve left his sight when they were growing up, felt it again when Steve was on missions even _with_ Bucky. He spent more of his life worrying about Steve than he spent appreciating Steve being there. If he ever got back to him, he’d make a point of changing that. He’d appreciate every minute he got with his Steve.

“Don’t freak out,” a voice said into Bucky’s ear. He snapped his head up, looking around. “Yo! I said don’t freak out! It’s me! It’s Scott!”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open. Scott Lang? He looked at his shoulder and almost coughed he was so surprised. There he was, Ant-Man in all his tiny splendor. He waved at Bucky. Bucky looked up at Brock before casually waving back.

“Steve’s here. We’re gonna get you outta this.”

Bucky mouthed the name. _Steve_. His heart erupted into joyous celebration. His whole body felt like warm wax was caressing it. Steve was here. He’d never abandoned Bucky. He’d never given up. They found a way. Bucky was foolish to think that his Steve would just give up. They spent their lives saving each other, losing each other and saving each other again. Bucky prayed the cycle would end with this. All he wanted to do was confess how he felt and be let down. He needed to know his place, hear it from Steve himself and that’d be it. Bucky could move on, always content to watch the love of his life’s back.

“Nat and Red Wing were following us here. We’re gonna getcha out.”

“Wait,” Bucky whispered, his gaze flicking to Brock every so often. “Brock’s good.”

“I’m sorry– what?”

Bucky waited for Brock to turn around before he whispered again, “He’s a good guy. Don’t hurt him.”

“Hey Nat, I think Bucky’s lost his mind. He says Brock’s a good dude.” Bucky assumed Scott was speaking into his comms. Bucky just deadpanned at Scott.

“What’re you doin’?” Brock asked.

Before Bucky could answer, Jack and Tony came into the panic room, both out of breath.

“Jesus!” Tony exclaimed, “Mary and Joseph. You’d think we were really under attack.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “We’re not?” He shifted his shoulder back to hide Scott in a corner of the room.

“Oh oops.” Tony reached up to cover his mouth.

Brock flung himself into Jack’s arms. Jack cradled him, and for a moment, Bucky forgot about Tony’s words or Scott on his shoulder. Watching Jack and Brock, two people from this brutal world who loved each other so much. It brought a smile to his face. He hoped that no matter what happened, that these two would make it through everything. He wanted to them to live long lives, get married and maybe have kids or whatever the people of this world did. He wanted them to keep going.

“You okay?” Jack asked, cupping Brock’s face.

Brock nodded, leaning forward. Jack kissed his forehead.

“Bucky,” Scott whispered. “We’ve gotta get you out and that’s a lot of people.”

Bucky leaned his head back, looking around. Tony and Jack were clearly the bigger threats, but Brock was still a muscular guy. If Scott and Bucky worked together, they could probably get out, but Bucky didn’t want to hurt Jack and Brock. He _liked_ them. He didn’t really care one way or the other about Tony. He didn’t care much for the Tony of his world either.

“Ya got a plan?” Scott asked.

Bucky stood up, carefully plucking up Scott and holding him in his metal hand. “Steve’s here,” Bucky said.

Jack, Brock and Tony all looked at him quizzically.

“I mean—my Steve. _My_ Steve’s here.” He searched their faces. Jack and Tony didn’t look surprised, but Brock did.

“Yeah,” Tony finally said, “we know.”

“What?” Brock exclaimed. “Why ain’t we lettin’ Bucky go?”

“Fury.” Tony leaned against the wall, resting a foot against it. “Fury hates other-worlders.”

Bucky swallowed, anticipation tingling his fingers. If he could convince Brock, maybe Jack would let him go too. Jack seemed to follow whatever Brock wanted. Tony was the wildcard.

“Brock,” Bucky said, “you gotta let me go.”

Brock shifted, fidgeting with his fingers. Jack wrapped an arm around him.

“This’ll be over if you just let me go.” Bucky’s heartbeat spiked. He didn’t want to hurt them. They’d done nothing wrong to him. Jack and Brock had been the best things he had here. If it hadn’t been for them, Bucky wasn’t sure he’d have been so complacent while he figured everything out.

“We can’t,” Jack said. “He’ll kill Brock.”

Tony remained silent, watching with his gruesome face.

“But _my_ Steve is here. What if they kill him?” Bucky’s voice cracked. He crossed his arms, still holding Scott in his hand. “Please, let me go.”

“Listen, that’s not gonna–”

Brock opened the door, stepping back.

“Brock!” Jack exclaimed.

“It ain’t right!” Brock said, panic clear in his features. He was sweating lightly, his chest heaving. “That’s Bucky’s home. The captain stole him from it. It ain’t right we get to keep him. He’s not a prisoner.” He swallowed, looking at Bucky. “He’s my friend.”

Bucky’s face drowned with bittersweet emotions. He was sad that this Brock hadn’t lived in his world. He’d have probably never met him, or maybe somehow the world would’ve shaped him just like the asswhipe Brock Rumlow became there. He nodded, clasping Brock on the shoulder.

“Cap’s gonna kill you,” Tony sang. “Better get your last kisses in, Jack-o.”

Jack glared.

“Will you be okay?” Bucky asked, hovering in front of the door. He was so close. He was _so close_ to finally going home. He wasn’t sure what would happen when he saw his Steve, but he was pretty sure there was a long hug due somewhere. He could get that at least– before telling Steve how he really felt. Before the rejection.

“We’ll be good,” Brock said, shrugging.

“I meant you.”

Brock looked momentarily startled. He looked at Jack and Tony and then back to Bucky. Offering a smile, he nodded. It was uncertain, the kind laced with too much fear than happiness, but it was a smile. Bucky knew that if all else failed, at least Brock had Jack to protect him.

“You’re a good friend, Brock.” Bucky turned to leave, jogging away.

“You too!” Brock called after.

So close… Bucky thought as he jabbed his finger again and again at the elevator button. He was so damn close.

He almost forgot about Scott when a man emerged next to him. Scott pulled off his helmet and waved. “Nat and Red Wing are on the third floor waiting for us.”

“Where’s Sam?”

“Operating Red Wing somewhere. I don’t really ask questions.”

Bucky narrowed his gaze. “Steve’s fighting Steve, isn’t he?”

Scott couldn’t hide the surprise and guilt even if he tried. He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking around. “You know, I’m surprised this place isn’t crawling with soldiers.”

“This is Tony’s floor. They’re above.” Bucky looked ahead. “Where’s Steve?”

“Fifth floor. He wanted to fight the other guy alone.”

Bucky closed his eyes. Either way, Bucky would lose someone he loved deeply. If Steve from this world died, he’d lose the first man he ever kissed and meant it. If he lost Steve— _his_ Steve, he’d lose his soulmate. Either way, he was going to lose someone.

The door opened, but instead of an empty cabin, Natasha and Clint had who Bucky assumed was his Natasha in a death grip with a gun pointed to her head and Red Wing was an obliterated mess in the corner, still sparking.

“Get on,” she said. “This’ll all be over once we _murder_ you.” She was staring directly at Bucky.

Bucky glared at them, challenging whatever putrid malice he had left to spare from his hatred of HYDRA. His fists balled up. He was planning to fight. His shoulders barely moved when he heard a _thwick_ behind him, followed by another.

He turned to see Jack behind him, holding a tranquilizer gun. “They won’t be a problem anymore.” Clint and Natasha both dropped.

Bucky blinked. Scott rushed to their Natasha, working fast to untie her. “Was that part of your plan too?” he asked.

Natasha winced, wiping the blood from her face. “Not exactly. Their Clint’s a lot smarter than ours.”

Bucky turned back to Jack with a raised eyebrow.

Jack shrugged, cocking the tranquilizer again. “Brock thinks you’re worth saving. Tony’s hacking the computer systems. He’ll seal some of the doors to prevent BLADE from catching you all. He’ll also help get you to Steve faster.”

 _“Uh, I hate to be a bearer of bad news_ ,” Tony’s disembodied voice came. Bucky assumed there was a speaker embedded into the wall somewhere. _“But someone else is also trying to hack the doors to funnel BLADE to where the captains are fighting. I’ll do my best to work against them.”_

Bucky looked to Scott. They shared an understanding nod and then Natasha hit the elevator button. Bucky hopped into the elevator, shouting a thank you to Jack as the doors closed. This wasn’t his fight. Bucky wanted Jack to stay with Brock in case anything went badly. Bucky wouldn’t hold it past BLADE to turn on their own during such a moment of chaos and confusion.

“You Avengers really know how to startle a bunch of soldiers.” Bucky leaned against the elevator door, feeling the vibrations as it went up.

“You’re an Avenger too, Bucky,” Natasha said, offering a soft smile.

Bucky scrunched up his nose. He’d never considered himself an _Avenger_. He merely tagged along with Steve. His presence had fractured the Avengers. Tony and Steve had fought—over Bucky of all people. The world didn’t trust him. He wasn’t good enough to be an Avenger. He was just Captain America’s dark past.

They filtered into the hallway, Bucky tensing when he saw a group of soldiers running their way. The doors slammed on them. He looked up in the room, mouthing a thank you. The Tony Stark of this world wasn’t _that_ bad, he guessed.

“This way!” Natasha shouted as she grabbed Bucky’s arm and the three took off running. “We need to find Sam!”

“Sam, where are you, man?” Scott said over the comms.

“Uh, guys?” Bucky said as they all stumbled to a stop. They’d filtered themselves into a hallway full of BLADE soldiers.

“Damn it,” Natasha cursed. As the soldiers started their way, she shoved Bucky back through one of the ducts. “Tony! Seal him in!”

The duct shut. Bucky banged on the door, frantic to help his companions. He heard the sounds of guns, groans and the distinct snap of flesh and bone.

_“Head northwest, Barnes! I can’t keep that door locked forever! Remember I’m also dealing with shit!”_

Bucky growled, turning in the direction Tony instructed. He crawled through the air ducts, feeling clammy as the heat pumped around him. All this heat and yet the base still always felt cold.

_“Turn left.”_

Bucky did.

_“At the intersection, go straight.”_

“How far away am I?” He had been so caught up in what was happening that he really hadn’t stopped to think what he’d do once he saw Steve. The Steve he’d fallen in love with was fighting the Steve he always loved. How was he supposed to act with that? They were trying to kill each other and Bucky had to make a choice…

_“Turn left and then exit the ducts. I’ve sealed the doors so no one should get to you. Head straight down the hallway and turn right when you see a green flashing light. You’ll hear them from there.”_

Bucky scrambled out of the ducts, popping his shoulders and neck as he crawled on the floor. He stood up, startled to see a man with brown eyes and disheveled black hair.

_“Oh yeah, I brought backup.”_

“Brock, this isn’t your fight.”

Brock shrugged. “Jack’s helpin’ Tony find the other guy messin’ with the doors and shit. I said I wanted to help you.”

Bucky’s face softened, a smile tickling the corner of his lips.

“C’mon,” Brock said, grabbing Bucky’s wrist. They heard the sounds, turning the corner at the green flashing light. Bucky’s heart lurched into his throat when he saw them. His Steve, clean-shaven and bruised. His _other_ Steve, furious and sweaty. His body tingled anxiously. He wanted to scream for them to stop. They were fighting _because of_ him. Every cut that they suffered, every bone that was breaking—it was because of Bucky.

And Bucky thought he couldn’t hate himself any more. He’d been wrong.

“STOP!” Bucky screamed, his voice cracking.

They flinched, his Steve stepping back. The other Steve used that to his advantage and drilled his sword forward. Bucky watched in horror as his Steve, his Captain and his best friend—spun sideways, grabbing the sword with his fingers and yanked. Bucky screamed as he saw blood. He didn’t want this. They were fighting over someone not _worth_ this. _He_ wasn’t worth it! He was a murderer, a liar and a user. In his selfish confusion, he’d allowed the Steve of this world to love him and he fell in love too. But he never thought he’d stay, did he? He always thought he’d go back? It wasn’t fair to them. They were both beautiful, both so worthy of the respect and admiration of the world and Bucky was the shadow that stained both of them. He couldn’t let them beat each other over him anymore.

His Steve slid through into another hallway and the doors slammed shut, blocking him.

“Steve!” Bucky shouted, his eyes round.

The Steve of this world, turned then. He blinked a few times, looking between Brock and Bucky. His beard was stained with streaks of blood, his shirt was torn and Bucky could see wounds sparkling with fresh blood. His eyes made Bucky weak. There was so much love there. He didn’t look menacing—only desperate. He was a lion backed into a corner and this is how he reacted when provoked.

“I thought I told you to keep him in the panic room, Brock.” Steve spoke with meticulous indifference, but there was anger brewing there.

Brock shifted. He bounced on the balls of his feet. “I’m done takin’ orders from you. Bucky doesn’t belong to you!”

Steve’s eyes widened. “You challenging me?”

“Steve—no!” Bucky exclaimed, stepping in front of Brock.

“Out of my way, Bucky,” Steve growled, picking up his sword and walking toward them.

Bucky planted himself in front of Brock, his jaw clenched tight. He wouldn’t let this man die. This world would fall to ruin if Brock wasn’t there to give it soft color.

Steve stood in front of Bucky, his eyes searching for something. He bit his lip, eyes welling up with tears. “Why’re you doing this?” His voice was innocent, wavering. His emotions slipped into each syllable and Bucky found his heart yearning to fold into him.

“He came for me,” Bucky said. “I’ll always follow him.”

Steve bit his lip again, this time breaking the skin. Blood pooled around his teeth until he finally let his mouth drop into a quiet gasp. “I loved you.”

Bucky nodded, feeling his heart slice into ribbons that spilled to the blackened pits of his soul. “I know.”

Steve moved quickly. Bucky hadn’t been expecting it. Some part of him thought that through all of this, that he could reach Steve and pull out that little boy who saved dogs from cruel children, or helped old ladies with their groceries. Bucky looked up, anger burning in his eyes. He’d been wrong. That boy had died long ago. He’d died, strung up on a lamp post as he listened to the screams of a woman raped. He’d died _long_ before James did. Maybe that’s why James turned on him. Steve hadn’t been a good person in a _long_ time.

Bucky heard a gurgled choke behind him. He stared at Steve’s impassive face, so close to his own. He turned and saw the sword in Brock’s belly. He was trembling, coughing back air. Steve pulled the sword back, blood dripping. Brock fell to the floor.

“You’re a monster,” Bucky hissed.

Steve tilted his head. There was no remorse on that face. It was almost unreadable except for the screaming heartbreak that was suffering in those eyes. “I never said I wasn’t.” He took a step back, swinging his sword onto his shoulder.

Bucky turned as Brock’s gurgles got louder. He heard the hisses of doors opening and closing. He scooped Brock into his arms, searching that paling face for any sign that he’d pull through this. Guilt ravaged Bucky’s skin, making him clammy and dense. This was his fault. He’d made excuses for Steve. He rationalized that there was goodness when there was clearly none. Steve was hardened by this world and the monster lived where the boy died.

“H-hold on,” Bucky said, grabbing Brock’s hand. He tore at his shirt, using it to put pressure on the wound. “Hold on, okay? Brock! Brock, hold on!”

Brock’s eyes were fluttering open and closed. He was mumbling but the words made no sense. Panic filled Bucky. Another life on his list. Stolen and ripped from existence because Bucky was too selfish to die. He could have spared this. He knew he could have—somehow. He should’ve been paying attention to the man he was protecting over the man that he couldn’t figure out why he _still_ loved so much.

Steve was gone, most likely in search of Bucky’s Steve. Would this be his life if his Steve died? Would he be a caged bird in a world full of monsters? It was a living hell. Bucky didn’t think he deserved much better. Retribution was a far off notion. Punishment was his only reward.

 _“Jack’s incoming.”_ Tony’s voice again. _“I’m working on getting the doors open but this other guy’s damn good.”_

Bucky just stroked Brock’s hair, tears warming his face. Brock was so pale, mumbling strings of syllables like they meant something. He held his blood-soaked shirt to Brock’s body, sucking back air. He couldn’t save Brock. There was one person left alive on this godforsaken base that he _could_ save. As Jack ran into the hall, Bucky grit his teeth. He’d kill the Steve of this world.

He’d kill him before he watched his lifelong best friend die.

* * *

Running hurt when every gasp of air was a negotiation. Bucky’s body wanted to die. It deserved as much. He’d poisoned this world and his own. He willed his legs to keep running as Tony led him to his Steve. Natasha and Scott were searching for the other soldier hacking into the systems and Sam was still MIA as far as Bucky knew. Bucky kept running. He kept running until he saw a flash of blond hair and a body running for his own.

They crashed into each other, Bucky’s legs swinging up and wrapping around Steve. _His_ Steve. Tears drowned his eyes, sobs echoing in his ears. _His Steve, his Steve, his Steve, his Steve_.

“Bucky!”

Bucky squeezed harder, choking on the sobs that were wrecking his rib cage. He squeezed Steve, cupping his head, burying his face against Steve’s neck. He kept squeezing. Steve’s arms were laced tight around him, his face pressed into Bucky’s neck, and his breath was hot. He was warm, he was alive and he was _here_.

“Steve.” Bucky’s voice was wrecked. His heart had never beat so hard against his chest. It hurt. Everything hurt so much because this was exactly where he wanted to be. This was the man he was meant to love. It didn’t matter how Steve felt toward him, Bucky would _always_ love him, protect him and be there for him. That was Bucky’s promise.

Steve’s limbs started shaking, sniffing and shaky breaths coming from him. He squeezed Bucky harder, tears wetting Bucky’s face. “I never stopped looking.”

Bucky smiled into Steve’s neck. It would be so easy to kiss him. His lips were already there, they already touched the pulse point of Steve’s throat. It could even be seen as an accident or a friend just kissing a friend. It wasn’t like they hadn’t kissed each other’s cheeks growing up.

“God—Bucky,” Steve choked out.

Bucky squeezed his legs tighter around Steve, clinging to him like the universe would swallow him up otherwise. He stroked his fingers through Steve’s hair. This was the right man. It didn’t matter if it was the wrong love. This was the _right_ man.

 _“Uh_ — _guys, we figured out who the hacker was!"_ Tony’s voice.

Bucky leaned back, looking around the hallway.

_“Fury. He’s coming! He’s incapacitated your friend with the wings and he’s coming!”_

Bucky slid from Steve’s body, whining. “We have to run.”

Steve grabbed Bucky’s forearm. His face was pinched, just like it always got when he was determined. “He’ll just keep coming for you.”

Bucky nodded. “I can take it.” Bucky tried to move away.

“Bucky! We can’t let this world keep that link to ours. We have to destroy it for good.”

Bucky wasn’t expecting the pain that pressed into his body like needles. Without that link, he’d never see the Steve of this world again. That rugged beard, those intense eyes—it’d all be lost to him. He hadn’t been prepared to feel the anguish that crushed the air from his lungs. Steve was a monster—but so was Bucky.

But if the link was destroyed, then Bucky didn’t have to resolve himself to murdering a man he loved. Steve had killed an innocent man for helping Bucky. He’d killed Jack’s lover.  Would Bucky be a monster for killing an equally terrifying force?

“Well, well,” Fury’s voice echoed into the room. “This is what I meant.”

Steve stood in front of Bucky, his fists at the ready.

Fury walked into the room like a bird of prey.  No one got to be a leader in a world this brutal without exceptional ferocity.

“You _other-worlders_ come here, poison my people’s minds and suddenly they’re turning against us. Stark. Rollins. Rumlow. That’s how it started back before the war. My grandfather watched it all happen.”

Steve pressed himself back into Bucky. Bucky reached out, linking his hand with Steve’s. Steve squeezed their hands together. Bucky was momentarily dazed at how intimate this was between them. Did Steve? Did he perhaps…

Fury dropped his overcoat, exposing a solid body, guns and knives on a utility belt and held up his arm. “You’ve got three seconds to surrender. We’ll kill you quickly if you do.”

Steve shook his head. “We just want to leave and sever the connections of our worlds. We’ll be no threat to you anymore.”

“Three,” Fury began counting.

“We’re not a threat!” Steve exclaimed.

“Two.”

Steve took his shield off, throwing it at Fury who promptly caught it and cast it aside. He charged at Steve, hitting a button on his wrist and the wall suddenly moved out toward Bucky and wrapped around him. It hissed and groaned as the bolts and cogs moved to wrap him in a cocoon. He was flailing wildly, blinded by the darkness. Fury was obsessed with his fears, of course he’d implement traps into the base itself. Bucky threw himself into the wall, using his metal arm to bang and bang. He couldn’t hear Steve or Fury outside. It was too dark to even see his nose.

The walls started squeezing, and Bucky found himself on the defensive instead of offensive. He pushed his feet and arms into the walls, groaning as he worked to keep them from squeezing in any more.

The plating slid back and he could see the hallway again. His body was locked inside the restraining wall. Steve was in one of the same holdings as Bucky. His shield was embedded into another part of the wall. Horror filled Bucky’s body, chilling his blood to ice when he saw the other Steve. He was standing next to Fury, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Kill them,” Fury said. “I’m going to deal with _Stark_.”

Bucky’s Steve was released from the restraints and rolled to get his shield. The other Steve charged with his sword. His punches were harder than Bucky had ever witnessed. His kicks more deadly and that sword—it was more powerful than Bucky had given it credit for.

Steve fell beneath the sword, using his shield to protect himself. A crack echoed into the air and absolute shock filled his features.

“STEVE!” Bucky screamed. His shield… it cracked. Bucky started to fight wildly against his restraints. His arm whirred loudly. He could feel it heating up as he struggled. Anger boiled inside, watching the Steve of this world beat down on the man he grew up with. Steve—who didn’t like bullies, Steve—who was so little and yet came to the aid of anyone in need. He was being bullied, being picked on by a version of himself that could _have been him_. Bucky had never let it happen. Bucky saw the goodness in Steve. He uplifted it, praised it, and worshipped it. He reminded Steve of all the good he was, of all the goodness he had to offer, and that he should never _stop_ offering. He was meant for greater things. Bucky never stopped reminding his Steve that. Then it came true and Bucky wasn’t needed anymore. And that was okay. Steve didn’t need Bucky anymore, but Bucky needed Steve to remind him that _Bucky_ was meant for greater things. He had a debt he owed his world and he needed Steve to guide him to repay it.

It didn’t matter that Bucky was marred with evils. It didn’t matter that his past was murky with murder and atrocity. He got to protect the light of _his_ world. He’d protect that light with everything he had—Winter Soldier and all.  

Bucky burst from his restraints, heaving.

 

 

The other Steve was standing above Bucky’s Steve, beating down with half of the shield against Steve’s face. In that moment, Bucky’s anger changed from boiled malice to chilled fear.

Killing the other Steve was the only answer, but Bucky couldn’t bring himself to fight him. He hailed down on Bucky’s Steve with a ferocity that gods dreamed of. It was the brutality of a monster forged in hell and Bucky couldn’t fight that—especially if _his_ Steve was losing.

“I’ll stay!” Bucky wailed. “Please just stop hurting him! I’ll stay!”

Steve froze, turning. His face was drained of the animalistic hatred he’d had moments before. It was replaced with relief and astonishment. He stepped back, letting the other man drop to the floor and cough up blood.

“You will?” His voice was husky and it made Bucky shiver. He could remember that voice, pressed against his ear as they made love. This wasn’t kind– this lie. Natasha would be proud but Bucky wasn’t. He continued to find levels of hatred for himself that he previously thought didn’t exist.

“Yes. Just let him go. We can destroy the transporters and I’ll stay.” He moved hesitantly toward Steve, his hands out in an attempt to show he wasn’t a threat.

Steve nodded, looking down at Bucky’s Steve. He crossed the hall to Bucky, coiling his arms around the man for a tight hug. “All I ever wanted was you.”

Bucky delicately snaked a throwing knife out of Steve’s belt. “I know, baby. I’m so sorry.”

Steve hugged him tighter. “I love you. I love you so much it makes me crazy.”

Bucky looked to his Steve. At first, he was horrified—betrayal and agony painted into his straining features. Then he saw the knife. His bloodied mouth dropped open. He said nothing.

Bucky swallowed, holding this Steve close to him. Liar. Murderer. Manipulator. Brutal. Unashamed. Strong. Loving. Loyal. Understanding. This man was a man Bucky loved, but he wasn’t the man Bucky could be with.

“I love you,” he whispered, cupping Steve’s head. “I love you so much.”

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky, trembling. “I love you too.”

Bucky shoved the knife into Steve’s back, his heart weighed to stone, snapping off and fumbling to the pit of his stomach.

Steve gasped, dropping to his knees.

Bucky stared at his Steve, eyes blank. He nodded once, twice. Tears clouded his vision. They spilled over his cheeks, streaming.

“B-Bucky,” the other Steve gasped—his beautiful monster. “B-Bucky.”

Bucky’s lip trembled. He fell to his knees, scooping this Steve into his arms, crying. Even dying, even _dying_ and this man still craved Bucky’s affection. All he wanted…was to love…

“M….m’s-sorry,” Steve said. Tears glistened in his eyes. He gasped, struggling to breathe. “M’sorry.”

Bucky stroked his fingers through the man’s hair, nodding. “I know, baby. I know. It’s okay. It’s all gonna be okay.”

Comforting a dying man had never been easy for Bucky. He’d done it in the war, he’d done it as a mindless Soldier that knew people feared death. Comforting a man that he loved as he died? That made Bucky want to die himself. He’d done _this_. It was an unkind, poetic circle. James had died at Steve’s hand, now Steve died at Bucky’s.

Bucky leaned down, pressing his lips to Steve’s. Steve gasped into the kiss. His tongue was too uncoordinated, his lips too slow. A dying man desperate to shove as much love into the last act he’ll ever have. He didn’t curse Bucky’s name. He didn’t even deflect. He welcomed the kiss eagerly. He’d even stopped breathing so he wouldn’t choke again.

Bucky pulled back, wiping tears from his eyes.

“B-Bucky,” Steve reached up, cupping Bucky’s face, “I l-love you.”

Bucky covered Steve’s hand with his. “I love you too.”

Steve wasn’t blinking as fast anymore. His mouth trembled, but it struggled to form words. “I—I’m scared.”

The knife that he’d lodged in Steve should’ve found a way to lodge itself into Bucky.

“Don’t be,” Bucky said, stroking Steve’s hair. “You’re gonna—you’re gonna be with James now.”

“What if he doesn’t w-want me?” Steve asked, crying. “I k-killed him.”

“He does want you.” The words surprised Bucky. He looked over to see _his_ Steve, crouching down. A soft smile was on his face. His wet eyes gave away everything. His soul had always been too kind. The man that lay in Bucky’s arms wouldn’t of thought twice about killing Steve, but Steve? Steve forgave him. Just like that.

“If I know anything about guys named James,” Steve continued,” it’s that they love guys named Steve. He’s gonna be so happy when you go to him.”

Bucky sobbed, closing his eyes. He squeezed his dying lover’s hand, feeling the trembling slowly start to subside. He was dying… He was dying and it was all Bucky’s fault. But there’d only been _one_ choice. His Steve would’ve died…

“W-what if there’s—what if—” Steve coughed. “What if there’s nothing.”

Bucky leaned over, kissing Steve’s forehead. “Then you sleep. Is that really so bad? Just sleeping? We’ll all sleep one day.”

Steve’s eyes started to fade in and out of recognition. “I guess. I—Bucky—”

“I’m here, baby,” Bucky said, holding back fresh tears. “I’m here.”

Steve held onto his hand. He brought it up to his mouth, kissing the knuckles. “All I ever wanted—was just—to love—” The words died in the back of his throat, like the life died from his eyes.

Bucky’s world snapped then, sounds ceased and his vision tunneled. Tears flowed from his eyes. He leaned forward, pulling Steve’s dead body closer in his arms. He cried. He screamed. He cried some more.

He was the reason this beautiful man—this man who smiled so much, this man who had so much love to give—he was the reason he was dead.

“I hope you find him again,” he whispered, closing Steve’s eyes. “Know that I’ll never forgive myself for what I did to you.”

The doors hissed open. Sam, Nat, Scott, and Jack came in, hauling a living and upright Brock Rumlow. Sam was leaning against Nat, his face swollen. Scott and Jack had Brock.

Bucky stared at Brock. “You’re alive?”

Brock smiled, nodding. “Jack…” His face paled when he saw the corpse in Bucky’s lap. “Oh.”

Bucky looked down, stroking his fingers through Steve’s hair. So he hadn’t killed Brock. Maybe he could’ve even been reasoned with to not kill Bucky’s Steve…

Bucky sucked back air, feeling a new wave of tears. “I’m sorry.” He leaned forward, pressing his face to his dead lover’s. “I’m so sorry.”

Sam was by Steve checking over his wounds, Nat and Scott were helping Brock. Everyone was alive except the one person that Bucky found he loved more than most.

He’d killed a Steve Rogers. There had to be some kind of unwritten commandment against that. Thou shall not kill a pure soul. Steve Rogers had a pure soul. It didn’t matter that it was masked in brutality. It didn’t matter that it had killed or invoked fear in others.

It was _still_ Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes had killed him.

He kissed Steve’s lifeless lips, regretting everything he’d done. He wanted to take it all back. He wanted to pull this man into his arms and tell him how they were going to find a way to make it work.

“No…” he whispered. “No, no, no, no!” He shook Steve’s body. “Wake up! Wake up! I didn’t mean it!”

“Bucky,” Nat said, hesitantly. “He’s—”

“Wake up!” he said, ignoring her. “Please, baby.” He cradled Steve’s head against his chest, sobbing. “Please wake up.” This had to be a dream. It was some kind of nightmare or he was with HYDRA or—something.

In what world would Bucky Barnes kill Steve Rogers? It was some kind of sick, twisted joke. Bucky would never—he could _never_ —

“Please, no,” he wailed. “Please come back.”

“Bucky.” It was Steve’s voice.

He looked up, seeing a face that was too clean-shaven and too young to be the man he’d fallen in love with. It wasn’t his imperfect being that taught him it was okay to be imperfect. It was the other one—the flawless Captain America, the light that made Bucky remember just how much of a demon he was. He loved that man—that flawless man.

But he loved his monster too, and that hadn’t even stopped him from killing him.

* * *

They told Bucky that they left with ensuring Jack Rollins was in charge and Nick Fury was dead. They left them, Brock and Jack, knowing that BLADE would be a force of change in their dark world. It probably wouldn’t stop the way things were, but Bucky didn’t really care anymore. He’d killed the only thing he ever loved in that world. Killed.

The quinjet ride was quiet. Sam was on a bed, asleep. Scott and Natasha were playing cards. Steve was hovering over Bucky, unsure of how to speak. Bucky knew him well enough to know when he was trying to find a way.

 _Just talk to me, you idiot_.

Bucky was curled up with a blanket around both himself. He’d remembered begging to keep the body. They hadn’t let him. Something about him needing to stay where he belonged. He wanted to go back. He didn’t deserve happiness. He didn’t deserve to look at his Steve and smile. He’d plunged a knife into a Steve Rogers—it didn’t matter which. The fact was, he did it.

Steve sighed for the fifth time, running his fingers through his hair.

Bucky just sniffled. He had no energy to try to pry Steve open. It wasn’t like he deserved it anyway. He didn’t deserve this man’s friendship. He deserved a painful death.

“I’m sorry,” Steve finally said.

Bucky couldn’t find the words to reply with. He stared at Steve, his mouth open, his eyes blank and sore. All he wanted was to sleep and never wake up. _I’m scared_ , he’d said. God, the pain ripped through Bucky. He groaned, coiling into himself. Steve had been scared and Bucky didn’t do a damn thing to save him.

“Bucky.” Steve sat next to him, reaching out to cup his shoulder.

“I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve anything.”

“Yes you do.”

“No! I killed him, Steve!” Fresh tears fell from his eyes. His head was throbbing. He hadn’t cried like this in a long, long time. “I loved him. I’m sorry—cause I loved you too—but he taught me that I did and all he wanted was me and I killed him.”  

Steve wrapped his arms tight around Bucky. He buried his face into Bucky’s neck and breathed deep. Bucky found his fingers running through Steve’s hair, but his thoughts weren’t here. They were adrift with the man with the auburn beard and the casual smile. His heart squeezed when he thought, _that man will never smile again._

* * *

“When’re the machines gonna work?” Scott asked, poking one. “Like—do we call them or…?”

Bucky sat down in a corner, staring off. He didn’t really give a flying fuck if they ever left this place. He should’ve crawled away and slipped into the shark tank. Maybe Moose would’ve eaten him. He deserved that. He deserved a thousand painful deaths. He’d killed Steve. All Steve wanted was to love him, and he’d _killed_ him.

“We hole up and wait. Keep trying every fifteen minutes.” Steve sat down at one of the control panels. “S’not like there’s anything else we can do.”

“We destroying ‘em or going through with that _deal_ we made?” Sam asked, arms crossed.

Steve sighed, nodding. “Leave ‘em. It’s fine.”

Natasha sighed, staring at her feet. “Anyone up for cards?”

“I’m in.” Scott moved over to their makeshift table. Sam joined shortly after.

It took Bucky only a few beats to realize what just happened. Natasha was smart enough to know that Bucky needed to talk to Steve. But Bucky didn’t _want_ to talk to Steve right now. He didn’t want to talk to anyone ever again.

Steve seemed to be busy looking over the buttons to notice Bucky, that or he was too scared to look up and scare him off.

“You came all this way for me—and you look like you always did when your ma forced you to Sunday church.”

Steve sighed, flicking up his brow briefly. “You’re heartbroken.”

There was an echo of laughter. They both looked to the other group, playing cards.

“Yes.” Bucky found his throat swelling. He cleared it, trying to push away the pain.

“Because you were in love with him.”

“Yes.” Bucky’s knees were weak. They’d give out at any minute.

“And me?”

“Steve.” After all this time longing for the man, he was here—but it was nothing like it should’ve been. Bucky killed a man to get here, and maybe it hasn’t even been necessary. Steve still cared, at least—despite watching Bucky outright murder the man he claimed to love. “I’m—I’ve always loved you.” Bucky’s feet tingled from how uncomfortable he felt. He looked back over at the group playing poker, and then to Steve. “I didn’t mean to—but I didn’t know.”

Steve winced.

“It’s just—” Bucky swallowed. He wasn’t sure if the room was warm or if it was him. “He was already in love with me. He—um—he was married to m—I mean James. He was married to James.”

Steve was staring at his boots.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky hung his head. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I should’ve known you’d feel strange about it.”

“Uncomfortable? What? No! I’m—I’m uncomfortable because I’m heartbroken _for_ you!”

Bucky blinked. His eyes searched Steve’s face, hungry for any answer he could find to the confusion he felt.

“I felt so helpless, Buck! I watched you lose him and I couldn’t do _anything_ to stop it! It was like the train all over again. When I lost you—” his voice cracked, “when I lost you, I thought my life was over. I—tried—to make it over.”

Bucky furrowed his brow. Steve was getting red. He was doing that thing where he wanted to say something else but something was holding him back. Bucky had known this man his whole life. He knew when Steve was struggling with telling the full truth or holding back. He didn’t want to let Steve hold back.

“You loved him. Did you want to stay?” The wrecked way that Steve spoke made Bucky suck back a sharp breath. He stared, watching the sadness drown Steve’s blue eyes.

“No,” Bucky answered truthfully. “He was never you.”

Steve looked up, shock in his features. He leaned forward, licking the side of his mouth. “What?”

Bucky smiled sadly. “I love you, Steve. I’ve always loved you. And that’s the choice I made. I killed him—for you.” Tears. Always more tears. “So—so now you know. I chose you. And I feel like shit and I don’t know if I’ll ever smile again and I won’t hold it against you if you never wanna look at me ever again but—I needed you to know that I _chose_ you.”

Steve looked over at the poker group, his eyes round and his mouth open.

“Bucky–”

“If you don’t feel the same, it’s okay,” Bucky said. “I just needed to be honest with you. I wasn’t happy there because I didn’t have you—but that doesn’t mean he was some kind of replacement or Band-Aid. I loved him too. I loved him so much, Steve.” Hot tears rolled down Bucky’s face, making his chin and neck itchy. “He wasn’t a bad person, he just lived through a bad circumstance.”

“I know, Buck,” Steve said. “I know he wasn’t. And I’m sorry.” Steve stood up, pulling Bucky into a hug. “I’m so sorry you lost him.”

Bucky sobbed, tucking his head under Steve’s chin.

“I love you, Bucky.”

Bucky froze.

“I love you—and I’ll wait for you. I don’t mind how long you need to take to heal from this. I’ll be there in any way you need me to be.” Tears welled up in Steve’s eyes. At first, Bucky didn’t realize the magnitude of it for a moment. Then he remembered this wasn’t the mirrorverse Steve. This was _his_ Steve—Captain America, his punk, his first love. And this Steve didn’t cry easily. Steve took a sharp breath, still all coiled up. “Let me love you—one day? Please?”

Bucky curled his arms around Steve tighter, sobbing. He would let Steve love him. It’d be hard now, too hard for them to jump into a relationship when all Bucky wanted was to mourn the loss of his other Steve. But words didn’t need to convey what the soul already knew. Their souls weren’t just mates—they were each other. So Steve already knew that and he was prepared to wait.

Bucky would live for the rest of his life with the fact that he’d killed a Steve Rogers. But at least he had another one to tell him why life was still worth living.

* * *

**Epilogue—Three Months Later**

Bucky didn’t do so well at night. Night reminded him of a world under the ocean. The silence made him think of the groaning base he’d spent his days on. He stared at the television, the glow from the bathroom reflecting off the corner. There were no TVs with BLADE. He tried to focus on the TV’s black screen. All it did was remind him of the black ocean outside a window where he spent time beneath the sheets with a man who smiled, cried and loved him.

“You cold?” Steve asked as he came into the room. “S’freezin’.”

Bucky shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

Steve paused, looking at the floor. His lips twitched into a frown, but then he looked up, hopeful. “So uh, do you—do you think we could—”

“You can hold me,” Bucky said numbly. “You’re cold.”

Steve sighed, sitting on the bed. “I didn’t—I don’t want this about me, Bucky. We’re supposed to be a team.”

Bucky sat back, blinking. “I know. I’m sorry.”

They were silent for a while. Steve’s breathing was raggedly, like he had more to say. Bucky hated that he thought back to the other Steve. He would never sit there like this. He’d open up and talk about how Bucky made him feel. Bucky missed him more and more each day. The pain didn’t feel like it’d ever subside.

“I’m tryin’ to make this work, Buck. But you’ve got—we’ve got to move past what happened. You saved me.” He grabbed Bucky’s hand. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Bucky looked at Steve, his gaze raking over smooth skin, that slightly crooked nose and those little eyes that shined. “Would you—would you ever grow a beard?”

Steve grit his teeth, tears welling up. “Sometimes I think you say things to push me away on purpose.” He stood up, leaving the bedroom. He didn’t bother to close the door.

Bucky shimmied under the covers. He should’ve been upset, but he wasn’t. He coiled around a pillow, remembering all the groans, whines and flourishes of the water outside a window so impossibly far beyond his reach. It’s not like going back would change anything. He killed him. He killed one of the men he loved, and in true Bucky form—he was now trying to exile himself from Steve.

* * *

“Have you eaten yet?” Steve asked.

Bucky looked down at the book he was holding. He’d stopped reading long ago, but he hadn’t found the strength to get up and do something else. “Um, no.”

“Want to order Chinese? I’ll buy.” It was a silly offer. Steve always bought. Bucky had no money.

“Sure.”

“Bucky.” Steve sat on the other side of the sofa. He gripped Bucky’s leg gently, staring into his eyes. “I love you.”

Bucky felt his throat clamping down. He tried to clear it, but all it did was make him cough.

Steve nodded, sitting back. “I’ll make you coffee while we wait?”

“No,” Bucky whispered. “I need—I need to talk to you.”

Steve froze. Every fear played so clearly on his face that Bucky momentarily lost his train of thought.

“We—you’ve been so good to me. But I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for this again.”

Steve’s shoulders sank.

“It’s not your fault. You were tryin’ to save me. You did save me.” Bucky thumbed over the pages of his book. “Just, I killed him. And I can’t stop thinkin’ about how he just—how he needed me.”

“He held you captive, Bucky. He—he was a murderer.”

“Aren’t you?” The words hung in the air, menacing. “Sokovia. Lagos. Fuck—we killed a lot of people durin’ the war, Steve. What makes us any different?”

Steve cracked his knuckles, chewing his lip. “Motive. We did those things because they needed to be done. He killed those people because displays of strength made people fear him.”

“He killed those people because that’s the world he was raised in,” Bucky corrected. “James didn’t even love him till he was strong. I loved you when you were—I always saw you for you. Not your body.”

“What do you want me to do, Bucky?” Steve wiped a tear from his eye. “Grow a beard? Use a sword? What else? I said I’d wait and I will wait but—but I’ll never be him, Buck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made you choose.”

“I’d choose you in a thousand worlds, with a thousand different Steve’s. I’d always choose you.” Bucky put his book down. “I just—I’ve killed so many people, Steve. What makes me deserve you?”

Steve’s eyes rounded. He stared, the shock of Bucky’s words seeping into the skin. Bucky waited, feeling his heart grind and pump out thick blood that didn’t want to flow through his veins.

“It’s not about whether you deserve me or not. It’s about that I think you’re the best damn thing in the world for me. I want you, Buck. I wanna—hold hands and go to the movies with you. I wanna take you on silly dates and do couples Halloween costumes. I wanna know you in a way I never did growin’ up. I don’t deserve you either, Buck. But I still want you.”

Bucky nodded, swallowing. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Bucky opened his arms and Steve threw himself into them. Steve nuzzled Bucky’s chest. He was so warm and Bucky hadn’t realized how much he missed the weight of another body. He wrapped his arms around Steve, kissing his forehead.

“I’m not perfect, Steve. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Neither do I. But that’s okay. We can learn together.”

* * *

“Hey Bucky! Wanna help with the groceries?” Steve called from the front door.

Bucky was just lying on the sofa, staring. His muscles ached when he moved. He didn’t realize he’d been on the sofa for three hours. He’d been lost in his mind. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d even been thinking about. Regrets, most likely. He often saw the people he’d killed with HYDRA or the curled smile of a man now gone from him.

“I got some good steaks. Figured we could eat that tonight. Steak and potatoes?”

Bucky nodded, following Steve into the kitchen. He started pulling groceries out of the reusable bags and found places for everything.

“I also got some fruits and stuff. Figured we’d want somethin’ sweet after.” Steve reached into his bag, pulling out strawberries.

“Oh,” Bucky whispered, reaching out. He held the package of strawberries close to his chest, cradling it like a child.

Steve stepped back, watching.

“We ate these a lot.” Bucky put the package on the island. His focus didn’t waver. He stared at the strawberries like they’d somehow connect him to a man long since dead. Eventually, he looked up, tried to smile and moved to kiss Steve on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Steve was stiff. He sniffed awkwardly, more of a way to fill the silence. “Yeah.”

“You don’t want me to kiss you?” Bucky asked.

“What? No! I mean—yes! Wait!” Steve flung his hands up. “I mean, that’s not why I’m being—weird.”

Bucky nodded. “I know.”

“Then why do you even ask, Buck?”

Bucky shrugged. “I’m still trying to find ways to get you to push me away.” He picked at a fingernail.

“Bucky.” Steve grabbed Bucky’s hands. “I’m not gonna push you away. Yell at me, kick me, punch me in the goddamn face. I’m not gonna push you away.” Steve slipped his hands up Bucky’s arms. The sensation in Bucky’s flesh arm was electrifying. “I’m in love with you, okay? I’m not gonna leave you.”

Bucky nodded. He was too exhausted to say anything back. He was always exhausted.

“Wanna sit on the counter and keep me company while I cook?” Steve asked, hopeful.

Bucky looked to the counter, then the strawberries. He licked his lips, contemplating.

Steve smiled. “Yeah. Sounds real good.”

* * *

Five months since Bucky killed Steve Rogers. He lay on the bed, staring at the lazy ceiling fan above. Steve was in the shower, singing a terrible tune with his equally terrible voice. Bucky loved it. He’d barged into another world unintentionally. He’d ruined a life by giving hope where there wasn’t supposed to be any, and then he’d murdered the man.

It happened. Nothing could change that. Bucky would always feel upset. He’d always have a lingering feeling for a man with a beard and a laugh that was so free. But it was over. Nothing Bucky could do could save that man.

Steve came in wearing just a white towel around his hips. His hair dripped from the water and he was flushed pink. Bucky stared.

“What?” Steve blushed deeply.

“You’re beautiful,” Bucky whispered from the bed.

Steve looked in the mirror, then met Bucky’s gaze in the reflection. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Steve dropped the towel. He crawled up the bed, his smile lopsided and his ears pink. He was nervous. Bucky could see it in the slight hesitation of his movements. Bucky’s mouth dropped open as he scooped Steve up into his arms. He let Steve between his legs, kissed the man’s nose and settled back into the pillows when Steve dropped his chin on Bucky’s sternum.

“Is this okay?” Steve asked.

“You’re still wet.”

Steve laughed. “So it’s okay?”

Bucky reached up, hesitant at first. His hand hovered by Steve’s head before he stroked his fingers through blond wet strands. The water flicked around, softly dusting Bucky’s face. Bucky smiled. “This is more than okay, Steve.”

Steve whined, lunging up and kissing Bucky hard. He wrapped his hand around Bucky’s neck, still making those tiny little whines as he kissed Bucky. Bucky led the kiss, pushing his tongue into Steve’s mouth. Steve was so reserved. Or maybe it was just because he was downright terrified to do something Bucky wasn’t ready for.

They pulled back, Steve resting his head on Bucky’s chest. Bucky idly drawing pictures on Steve’s smooth back—warm from the shower.

“You mean everything to me,” Bucky whispered. He stared at the black screen of the TV.

Steve nuzzled Bucky, humming happily. They ended up falling asleep together, Steve wrapped up in Bucky’s arms. His snores were light, his drool wet on Bucky’s chest. Bucky hadn’t fallen asleep so easily since he’d been the one in someone else’s arms. His thoughts drifted in and out as he slept. This was the Steve he was meant to be with. It was his destiny. He’d tried to mess with it before and the worlds found a violent way to correct it. But this was right. This was—

good.

Bucky woke to a night sky and Steve still atop him. He gently moved the man onto the bed, slipping the covers over his naked body. Steve protested, reaching out sleepily for Bucky, but his hand fell onto the pillow and he turned over to keep sleeping.

“Typical.” Bucky stood up, stretching. He meandered down the hall to the stairs and made his way into the kitchen to make some coffee. What he found first frightened him, but then tears filled his eyes.

There was a picture of _Steve_ —beard, smile and all. He was in a black tux and James stood next to him in a white tux. They were beaming at each other. Next to the picture was a note and resting next to the island was Steve’s sword.

Bucky reached out, shaking. He had to fight the tears off as he picked up the letter. Scribbled down were the words of a man he never thought he’d hear from again.

 

_Buck_

_Bet you didn’t think you’d hear from my sorry ass again._

_We thought the machines may come in handy, and I guess we were right because I was able to bring you all that stuff you’re seeing. Looks like your side felt the same. I kind of like that we still have this link. Not that I’m ever gonna use it again. No offense, but, your world’s too much of a temptation and I need to fix mine. I found that picture in Rogers’ safe. I know it’s not you in that picture, but, we don’t really take pictures here. Usually only at weddings so. There ya go. We had a funeral for him. Like James got. We didn’t think it was right throwing him to the sharks he loved so much. Besides, if James got to be burned, we thought it was only right that Rogers did too._

_We’ve been really turning BLADE around. We’re working with Africa now to find ways to help people and redirect resources, not just take them and use them ourselves. We’re in some faction wars, but Africa’s been a big help with that. We’ve actually moved from the water base. It’s great to be on land again. Africa’s beautiful. Have you ever seen a lion? I didn’t even know they really existed anymore. I thought they were a myth!_

Bucky snorted through his tears. Of course he’d seen a lion. He’d completely forgot how barren that world was. It hadn’t even been a year and he’d already forgotten so much.

_Anyway, sorry I didn’t say hi. We were on a tight schedule and Jack didn’t want to stay away from BLADE too long. Running this shindig ain’t easy!_

_For the new recruits (and boy are they flocking! Everyone wants to make a difference these days), they all learn about you and Rogers. I tell ‘em all. He’s a hero to them. Not for what he did with BLADE but for what you saw in him, all those other qualities. The loyalty, the love, all that mumbo jumbo. The recruits really love hearing about how you and him really started the path to change. Yeah, I may have amped your parts up a bit. But I think you really did do a lot for us, even if you don’t think so. I usually leave out that, well you know how Rogers died. I’m still so sorry._

Bucky gripped the page tighter.

_I tell ‘em he sacrificed himself for you. Because, let’s face it. He did. I saw it. He knew you had that knife. I don’t know if you realize that. Maybe I shouldn’t even be telling you, but I think you need to know just how much he loved you. I’d seen him caught in that same position time and time over. He knew. So, it ain’t much of a lie when I tell the new members that he died protecting you. Because he did._

Hot tears crawled down Bucky’s face. He took a deep breath, trying to keep it together.

_I know that our story didn’t end well. I’d like to think in some other universe somewhere, we all got out alive, your Steve, his James—everyone. I think about all the Jacks and Brocks out there and wonder if they realize how important they are to each other. They’re stronger together, not apart. You’re strong all on your own, but Steve, he ain’t. I know. I saw our Steve and I saw yours. That man needs you, Buck. He can’t even tie his damn shoes without you. I’m glad to know you’re together now. I wish you both the best. I really do._

_Oh, yeah! I brought you Steve’s sword. I don’t know if you really want it. That isn’t really the best symbolism. But since I saw him with that thing more often than not, I just thought you’d want to have it._

_Oh shit! One more thing. On the hilt, right before the blade, there’s a tiny little button. It’s a latch. Find it and open it. I think you’ll like what you find._

_Goodbye my friend,_

_Brock_

Bucky furrowed his brow as he stared at the sword. Why would Steve put a secret compartment on the sword? Wiping the tears from his eyes, Bucky squatted to look at the sword. He stared at it, looking for a button. He ran his hands over it but couldn’t find anything. Frustrated, he finally found a latch and it opened.

He picked out a tiny picture of a tiny man with an angry face. It was before their war. The face was young, but Bucky knew exactly who this man was. This was Steve before his serum—before BLADE and before the world changed him. He flipped the photo over, wondering if there was a date when he saw in Steve’s handwriting: _Remember where you came from._

Tears filled Bucky’s eyes again. He clutched the photo to his heart, trying hard not to break down. Through everything, Steve _survived_ . He survived until the day he decided survival wasn’t okay anymore. The day he _let_ Bucky kill him. It all made sense. He couldn’t live without Bucky, because as Brock said, Steves need Buckys. He died because he saw it was the only option for Bucky, because there was _another_ Steve who needed Bucky—and Steve willingly gave up his life so Bucky could continue taking care of his Steve.

“Jesus, Steve,” Bucky said into the air. “You bastard.” He looked at the picture again, noticing the tiny differences in this man from the skinny boy he grew up with. Darker hair and a dog at his side. The dog he’d rescued…

Because that’s who Steve Rogers was. A man who stood up to bullies, who sacrificed himself for others. Who did what needed to be done. It didn’t matter which universe he came from. That’s what Steve Rogers did.

“Bucky? You okay?” Steve’s sleepy voice called from the kitchen doorway. “W-what’s—?”

Bucky stood up, running into Steve’s arms. He squeezed the man, sobbing openly. “You’re the best, you know that?”

Steve laughed, hesitantly putting his hands on Bucky’s waist. “I—no?”

Bucky kissed him. Then he kissed him again, and again. He squeezed the little picture in his hand, but not hard enough to hurt it. He’d put it in a little frame or something.

_Remember where you came from._

“We’re gonna be okay, Steve,” Bucky said, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Y—okay?” Steve blinked, confused.

Bucky laughed, pulling Steve into him again, holding him tight against his chest. “I’m gonna take care of you. For as long as I live.”

Steve relaxed into Bucky’s arms, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s neck. “Yeah—that sounds real good, Buck.”

And so Bucky would. Because there had been a man from another world, with the brightest smile—who made sure Bucky could take care of Steve. Because Steve Rogers couldn’t live without Bucky Barnes.

And Bucky Barnes couldn’t live without Steve Rogers.

 

**End**

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Artist's Note:**  
>  Those of you sharpening your pitchforks through tear filled eyes, hear me out! This ending was my original concept for the story (so don't go blaming L1av). The idea was that Bucky would have to choose between what was easy (living in a world where he'd never have to be judged for his past and never have to navigate the finer points of morality) and what was “right”, coming to a place where he could believe that there was a fundamental good within him. It was never about deciding between the two Steves, but rather a decision between the two parts of himself. 
> 
> Mirror Steve loved Bucky, desperately, but sometimes love isn't enough. Sometimes you have to choose what's best for you, even if it feels like it's the hardest thing you've ever done. And getting away from a toxic relationship often is. This ending was supposed to be Bucky choosing the light within himself and the love that would be better for him in the long run, even if doing so nearly tore him apart. 
> 
> Well laid plans, right? But then L1av worked their magic and mirror!Steve grew into this tragic, fallible human whom we both loved. We realised that we didn't want to kill him off. After writing what was originally the "band-aid" alternate ending for people who couldn't read MCD, this one just felt cruel, because mirror!Steve wasn't irredeemable. There was even talk of not doing this ending at all.... but....well, I had to see it for myself, and L1av indulged my apparent sadism. I'm glad they did. Even though this was heartbreaking, it was beautifully so. 
> 
> I'd like to take a sec to thank L1av for working on this with me. I couldn't believe it when my favorite author actually wanted to do something with my (not so little) guilty pleasure daydream prompt. I've had to pinch myself several times over the course of this project. You've become one of my closest friends, and I honestly couldn't imagine my life without you now. Ilu, Li. And I hope we can work together again!
> 
> I'd love to hear what all of you think! Did you read both endings? Which one was your "real" ending? And which felt like the alternate? Or did you like them equally? Please let us know what you thought of the fic!
> 
> As always, you can find my other art on Tumblr. I'm going to be doing a master post containing all the art for this story. 
> 
> \- Hope [hopeless--geek](http://hopeless--geek.tumblr.com/)
> 
> AND THANK YOU FOR READING!!!!!  
> -L1av [ghostbuckster](http://ghostbuckster.tumblr.com) (temp url for halloweenie! I'm usually at buckmebxrnes!  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> We're really excited about this fic and would love to talk to you about it! 
> 
> Again my tumblr is [buckmebxrnes](http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/) and our talented concept-creator and artist is over at [hopeless--geek](http://hopeless--geek.tumblr.com/)
> 
> -L1av


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